


Flickers in the Flames

by DropsOfAutumn



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: 500 words of soft and awkward first hand-holding, Accidental Love Confessions, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Best Boy Kosmo, Bottom Keith (Voltron), Boys In Love, Camping, Insert pun about camp fires and slow burns here, M/M, Masturbation, No campsite showers were harmed in the making of this fic, Past Adam/Shiro (Voltron), Pining, Pining Keith (Voltron), Porn with Feelings, Slow Burn, Smut, Soft Keith (Voltron), S’mores, Top Shiro (Voltron), and 1000 words of awkward first kisses, and lots of pining, at least kind of slow burn, blink and you miss Gay Disaster Shiro, but make it soft, have I mentioned fireflies?!, lots of dog content, lots of emotions, mildest mention of size kink, minor angst with happy ending, post divorce Shiro, prepare for bonfires and water gun fights, with soft I mean REALLY soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-16
Updated: 2019-10-16
Packaged: 2020-12-17 12:33:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21054467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DropsOfAutumn/pseuds/DropsOfAutumn
Summary: He had prepared himself for a long weekend with his best friend. His best friend he has secretly been crushing on for as long as he could remember.He had prepared himself for three days of sharing a tent and sharing stories about ghosts and lost lovers over campfires. He had mentally braced himself for seeing each other in bathing trunks and boxer shorts.He had braced himself not to get his hopes up, though, not to read too much into it. He had prepared himself not to wish for them sharing chaste kisses over bonfires. Not to hope for the possibility of shared body heat in the intimacy of their small camping tent.But no logic or reasoning could have prepared him for the small drops of water making their way down Shiro’s abs. Nothing could have prevented his face turning a deep shade of red in response.Keith curses himself. Yes, it’s definitely going to be a long weekend.





	Flickers in the Flames

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome to the monster that is my Camping AU. I started this piece in June, but it got kind of buried underneath procrastination and obligations and I did not touch it for the whole of August and September before I finally decided to make this my first "31K October" project. Originally I planned for it to have around 10.000 words. Oh, what a fool I've been.
> 
> So this is 20K words of pure and raw emotional Keith, and I'm very soft for it. I might have cried while writing 1.000 words of their first kiss. I really hope you like it! 
> 
> Biggest thank you to [PiscesDragon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PiscesDragon/) for being an amazing Beta and making it through this monster with me <3  
another thank you to [CherrybombKeith](https://twitter.com/cherrybombkeith?lang=en) for motivating me to write this piece since June! And kudos to the best [Christie](https://twitter.com/appetixing) for providing me with keyboardsmashes and love when I questioned the whole plot ♡♡♡
> 
> The title comes from [Flickers in the Flames by Dave Thomas Junior](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eB1CTyzSgSY) which I might or might not have listened to on repeat for 150 times while writing. oops. Found this beautiful song that totally fits the whole atmosphere of the story while browsing [AlexRainBird's Camping Playlist](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LPvgia8R7IQ) (this is unpaid advertisement, I just love their playlists so much).
> 
> Have fun ♡

“Hey Keith, what do you think about camping?”  
  
It's summer and the city is buzzing with the faint sound of running air conditioners while the air smells like sunscreen. Five minutes under the sun and the fabric of his clothes sticks to his skin, and he already figures the one shower today has not been enough.

It's when he finds sweat running down his face from simply sitting around that Shiro decides it's time to go on a camping trip. At least, this is as much as he tells Keith when he picks up his phone.

And because waking up in a small tent next to a quiet lake and simply jumping into the water whenever he feels like it sounds devastatingly amazing, Keith decides to tag along.

And because Kosmo would love the countryside. 

Not because he needs an excuse to spend time with Shiro.  
  
“Sounds amazing, when are we leaving?”  
  
*

It takes exactly three days to organize the trip and Keith finds himself in front of Shiro's car, Kosmo on one side, a small bag on the other, filled with only the bare necessities: two shirts, one pair of pants, three boxer shorts, his swimming trunks, and a toothbrush.

Good thing he has packed lightly. Shiro's car is filled to the brim.

"You sure we need all these fairy lights?" Keith asks with a laugh while he lightly nudges one of the boxes at his feet. He peeks into it to see matches and first aid kits snuggled closely to the corny fairy lights shaped like butterflies. 

“They are solar-powered", Shiro smiles and Keith does not second-guess when he climbs into the passenger seat, sharing his legroom with an assortment of floatables. 

Keith would not be surprised if he was to find snow boots and raincoats somewhere in the depth of the car. Leave it to Shiro to pack for all occasions. 

*

Twenty minutes later, both men find themselves on the road, windows rolled down and Kosmo leaning out from his spot on the back seat, watching the scenery fly by.

There is no AC in Shiro's recently acquired hand-me-down car, but two-hours on the road do not seem too bad when Shiro is singing along to corny songs on the radio and Kosmo chimes in at some point, barking loudly out of tune.

It's also not too bad when their fingers touch as soon as both reach for the knob to switch stations, and it leaves butterflies in Keith's stomach and a soft smile on Shiro's lips.

He hopes Shiro cannot hear how loudly his heart is hammering in his chest.   
  
_It's going to be a long weekend_, Keith thinks when he catches sight of himself in the rearview mirror, beaming to some road trip song about freedom, love, and infinity. 

_ *** _

  
_It had not been his first choice, sharing a flat with his best friend from high school, but when Hunk and Keith got accepted into the same college, it was the promise of cheap rent and not starting their life in a new city completely alone that made both go on a flat hunt together. _

_From the start, bunking with Hunk had been easy. _

_Hunk could cook and Hunk was nice, and Hunk managed to remind him to sort his dirty laundry before taking it with him to the nearest laundromat._

_  
Bunking with Hunk had been easy. Until it wasn’t. Until Hunk’s girlfriend came into the picture and slowly but surely stole his friend away with her thick-framed glasses, her color-coded essays and her talk about infinitesimal calculus__.   
  
__It was only a matter of time before Keith had to face a stuttering Hunk, stumbling over his words and clinging to his glass of coke while telling Keith that “I kind of, sort of, you know, _ want _ is the wrong word, rather consider to move out, not now, but sometime soon, and only if it really is okay for you, no worries, I’ll help you find a new flatmate, and it’s not you, it’s me and Pidge has so much space and…” his eyes looking anywhere but at Keith. _

_Bunking with Hunk had been easy. So Keith decided to end the rambling mess and pull Hunk into a hug, telling him they would be fine. _

_ And fine they would be. It only took Hunk exactly two weeks and three days to find him a new flatmate when a friend of Hunk’s girlfriend’s brother – or something like that? Keith got a headache just trying to remember how exactly they found that guy – exclaimed she had the perfect idea via text message. _

_ Half an hour later, the doorbell rang.   
  
_

_ Keith would later laugh when he caught himself thinking about this moment as an epiphany, but the first time he laid eyes on Takashi Shirogane – or rather, his muscular chest in a tight-fitting henley shirt – his eyes might have done a double-take while his mind came to a screeching halt. The muscular chest in front of his eyes told him that Shiro would come with a terrible workout regime. Letting his eyes wander upwards, Keith also found a smile that could light up the whole freaking town. It also told him that Shiro would be exactly the kind of everybody’s darling that Keith loathed with a passion. _

_ Being an orphan and trouble maker, Keith had never had the pleasure of being anyone’s favorite – it had not helped a lot that he had never felt the urge to comply with anyone just to be liked. So Keith’s first instinct when he saw Shiro’s sparkling smile and heard the humble tenor in his voice when he spoke – exactly the vocal range that was dripping like honey, trying to lull him in like a siren – was to close the door in front of Shiro’s face.  
  
_ _It could have ended here and they would have never met. If it had not been for Shiro vigorously planting his foot between the door and its wooden frame. And the cry of pain that ensued. And their three-hour visit to the nearest hospital to get Shiro’s foot bandaged._ _  
_

  
_And thus started for Keith what would become three years of sharing a flat with Takashi Shirogane. _

_ *** _

  
“Wow, it’s breathtaking,” Shiro utters when he hops out of his car and Keith can’t help but roll his eyes at the way Shiro beams like a child. “It’s a lake, Shiro.”  
  
The campground Shiro has picked is right in the middle of nowhere and they decide to build their tent right next to a spacious lake, a small pebble beach leading up to the water close enough to their tent Keith catches himself considering it ‘their own’. 

The view _ can _ be considered scenic, Keith admits, with high trees and crystal clear water that spans on for miles. In the faint distance, Keith can even make out the shape of the mountains. ‘It looks like a postcard’, Keith finds himself huffing in his thoughts. Leave it to Shiro to choose a picture-perfect camping ground.  
  
“Don’t be a spoilsport”, Shiro bumps their shoulders lightly before he opens the trunk of his car. The soft touch is enough to bring a smile to Keith’s lips, before he feels his dog nudging at his legs, making Keith groan. “Don’t tell me you’re hungry, Kosmo.” 

Big canine eyes and an excitedly wagging tail tell him that, yes, indeed, his dog _ is _ hungry. So he kneels down and sinks his fingers into the soft fur of his dog. “Go play, it’s not time for food yet.” And the dog trails off, his head hanging low.

“Wow, how did you finally get him to listen to you?” Shiro asks while he tucks his car keys away, his eyes fixed on the dog. Keith only laughs before he turns to unload the car. “I think the only words he understands are ‘food’ and ‘no food’.”  
  
Shiro had surely packed anything but lightly. Keith finds himself rummaging around boxes and bags and he’s about to comment on ‘Two camping cookers? You’re serious?’ when he hears the unmistakably happy woof of his dog from a short distance. And he peeks over his shoulder to see Kosmo at the lake’s shore, happily jumping through the water.  
  
Shiro – who Keith is pretty sure had just been right next to him getting the sleeping bags into the tent - is standing close to the dog, ankle-deep in the shallow water, trying to chase Kosmo. Barefoot.  
  
“Hey, that’s my shoe. Give it back!”  
  
Keith is not sure if it’s the warm, deep roll of Shiro’s laughter or the excited barks filling the air, but there’s a warmth in his chest he’s sure is not caused by the summer heat.

Three minutes and two unpacked boxes later, Keith’s smile turns into a full laugh when a dripping wet Shiro complains “Cold, cold, cold!” while Keith hands him a towel.

Technically it’s Kosmo’s fault Shiro has stumbled headfirst into the lake. But Keith won’t complain, not when he has a front-row seat to Shiro in a see-through white t-shirt and water dripping from the tips of his white hair. 

Now _ that _ is a breathtaking view.

  
“At least you don’t have to shower anymore?” Keith tries hard to not make a fool out of himself at the provided sight. Still, he silently chokes on his words when Shiro pulls off his wet shirt, but in his defense, it’s hard to keep his brain from short-circuiting at the sight. 

“Haha, very funny, Keith.”

Very funny indeed, Keith finds himself thinking, when his eyes land on Shiro’s bare chest. 

He had prepared himself for a long weekend with his best friend. His best friend he has secretly been crushing on for as long as he could remember. 

He had prepared himself for three days of sharing a tent and sharing stories about ghosts and lost lovers over campfires. He had mentally braced himself for seeing each other in bathing trunks and boxer shorts.  
  
He had braced himself not to get his hopes up, though, not to read too much into it. He had prepared himself not to wish for them sharing chaste kisses over bonfires. Not to hope for the possibility of shared body heat in the intimacy of their small camping tent.

But no logic or reasoning could have prepared him for the small drops of water making their way down Shiro’s abs. Nothing could have prevented his face turning a deep shade of red in response.  
  
Keith curses himself. Yes, it’s definitely going to be a long weekend. 

_ *** _

_ As it turned out, Keith had a weak spot for everybody’s darling Shiro with his penchance for mischief and his way of tugging Keith into a hug on a particularly bad day. _

_ Shiro liked his dog (“Kosmo has thrown up in my shoes again” - “You did not even like that pair“) and had accepted his taste in music (“Are you wallowing in self-pity again, Keith?”- “Shut up, emocore has some really deep lyrics!”) as well as his weird omelet cravings at 3 am in the morning (“You should be asleep!“ - “Studying always makes me hungry!”). _

_ In return, Keith got used to Shiro’s military sleeping schedule (“Shiro, it’s five in the morning. It’s basically still the middle ofthe night!” - “Best time for a workout!”), his love for mac’n’cheese (“You can’t live on mac’n’cheese alone!” - “Is that a challenge?”) and his obnoxious boyfriend Adam and the sounds of their nocturnal activities that kept him from sleeping when Adam was spending the night (“Shiro, I’m really happy you got the dicking of your life, but please, not when I’m trying to sleep!”). _ _  
_ _  
_ _ Sharing a flat with Shiro also meant seeing him in tight henleys and even tighter sweatpants. With his hair damp from the shower or his arms glistening with sweat from their daily jog. And seeing Shiro’s naked butt when he forgot his towel in the bathroom. __  
_

_ It also meant heading home after the worst day at work, furious and ill-tempered, grabbing some take-away mac’n’cheese and two bottles of cheap wine on the way, mentally preparing himself for an evening on the couch with his flatmate, watching bad movies and fussing over his boss. _

_ What Keith had not been prepared for was bursting in on Adam kneeling in front of Shiro, a small case in his hands that looked suspiciously like a ring box, and his roommate crying happy tears._

_ And now, two years later, Keith finds himself somewhere in the middle of nowhere on a week-end getaway, trying to distract his best friend from stressing over his divorce while trying hard not to let his crush show.  
_

_ Life could be a bitch sometimes. _ _  
  
_

_ *** _

Keith nearly chokes when he sees the butterfly-shaped line of fairy lights that Shiro has attached to the entrance to their tent. 

“You don’t think it’s too corny?” It’s the first thing that comes to Keith’s mind as he sees the glowing butterflies, but then again Shiro has always been prone to liking the weirdest stuff and going shopping with him could easily develop into hours of Shiro pointing at cute things. Keith always tried his best to hide the smile on his face each time he would see Shiro beam at something especially unique. 

“Camping is all about the atmosphere,” Shiro points out with a finger in the air and a smug grin on his face. 

Guess Keith could not argue with that. “You really are a sap,” he laughs instead while setting down the last of Shiro’s boxes next to the tent.

It might have taken them an hour to unpack and somewhere in between inflating their air beds (“You didn’t plan to sleep on the floor, did you?”) and fixing the pegs for the fourth time (“You don’t want the roof to come crashing down on us in the middle of the night, Keith!”) Shiro – to Keith’s displeasure – has changed into a new shirt. 

Thankfully, their campsite seemed to be quite shrouded from the others by trees and hedges, enough to provide some privacy, but not enough to block out the screams of children echoing in the distance. They appeared to be far enough from the central area that provided the basic amenities, so the only people passing would be a few fellow campers on their way to their own tent pitches. With their own bonfire and a picturesque view over the crystal clear lake, Keith was sure they would have more than enough reasons to stay at their pitch as much as possible.

“Is it really okay?” Shiro pulls him from his thoughts, suddenly appearing right in front of him. He places his hand on his shoulders in a comforting gesture, one that makes Keith smile and feel at home. Because being with Shiro always makes him feel like that. At home. 

“Yeah, sorry, I was deep in thoughts. It’s cozy. I like it.” Because he really does, at least it is quiet and has enough space for both adults and his huge dog. The nice view is an added bonus, Keith thinks.

“Care to join me in a walk? I want to explore the area a bit.” Shiro underlines his words with a nod in the direction of what Keith assumes is the end of the camping ground, a forest that promises even greater quiet and fewer people.

Less people sounds lovely to Keith.

***

_ The pain had been nothing new to Keith. Being left alone was the red string woven through his whole life, people just had a habit of abandoning him. First his mum, later his dad and about every new foster home he had been sent to after 3 months. _

_ When Hunk had left their flat, it had felt predestined, like falling into line with every other person that had somehow become dear to him. _

_ So when Shiro had stepped into his life (literally, he liked to joke, his mind remembering their very _ footsy _first meeting), Keith had told himself over and over again that it would only be a matter of time until Shiro would abandon him. Just like everybody else. It became a mantra, a mantra he found himself thinking every time Shiro bent over the door to their fridge in nothing but a towel. A mantra he reminded himself every time Shiro tried taking a selfie with Kosmo that turned out blurry but would become Keith’s phone-background for the following weeks. A mantra he found himself muttering everytime he tried to push back any thought about his stupid crush on Shiro. A mantra he forced into his brain every time he heard Shiro’s boyfriend cry out his name through thin walls. _

_ A mantra he found himself mumbling against the rim of his bottle on a Friday night, after his fifth beer and the third episode of that Sci-Fi series they loved to watch just to point out all the flaws. It had taken Shiro only three seconds of shocked expressions, two knocked-over empty bottles and a bowl of popcorn sent flying in the process before Keith had felt Shiro’s strong arms around his shoulders, pressing his face against the chest that smelt significantly liked their cheap shower gel and the musk deodorant Shiro loved to use.   
_

_ It had smelt like home. _

_Keith had not been sure if the tears in his eyes had come from the thought of finally having found something he wanted to call ‘home’ or the way Shiro slightly slurred reassuring words into his ears, promising he would never _ ever _ leave Keith behind. _

_ So when it took Shiro only three weeks after the proposal to move out of their flat and start his newly betrothed life with Adam, Keith could count on one thing for sure: The pain would come. _  
  
_ *** _

It’s cliché, Keith thinks, as he takes a sip from his cheap beer while admiring the view of the sun setting over the lake with the can in his hand. The beer is warm, just like the air around them, and he tries his hardest not to think too much of the two mosquito bites that have appeared right above his left knee after their walk, winking at him as if they wanted to invite him to scratch them thoroughly. 

Keith hates mosquito bites.

To distract himself from the urge to scratch his knees raw, Keith’s focus lands on Shiro, who’s busying himself with collecting and piling chunks of wood for their campfire. The unhindered views of Shiro’s biceps at work, glistening with sweat, feels like a nice addition and Keith hums against his beer while his eyes follow Shiro’s every movement.

He does not understand why exactly Shiro insists on igniting a bonfire, but he chinks the beer can against Shiro’s in celebration once the fire burns anyway, trying hard to play it nonchalantly when Shiro stretches and lets his shirt ride up just the slightest, enough to show the smallest bit of his muscular abdomen. Keith feels his cheek heat anyway and hopes he can blame it on the heat of the fire. If Shiro notices, he keeps it to himself and hides his amusement in a secretive smile.

“I wish we had some marshmallows,” Shiro complains two seconds later as he sits down next to him and Keith grins as he puts down his beer can for a second. “You’re such a boy scout, Shiro, it’s disgusting! Next thing you know you’ll ask for chocolate and crackers.” The only answer he gets is a huff of Shiro’s laughter before he takes another sip. 

The silence between them is comforting, with the crackling of firewood and Kosmo snoring soundly at Keith’s side. He envies his dog for the ability to sleep anywhere; their walk around the lake must have tired him out. The moment they had returned from their trip, Kosmo had rolled himself up into a furry croissant and started snoring.

“It’s just like the good old times, isn’t it? Only we’re older. And more broken,” Shiro breaks their silence, just as Keith finds himself thinking that he has missed the way they could sit together for hours, without saying much, only bathing in each other’s presence. 

But this time it feels different. There’s a heavy cloud hanging between them, shaped like regret and fear of commitment, shaped like unspoken apologies and unspoken feelings. 

It’s bittersweet how Shiro’s voice fills with pain and regret in a matter of milliseconds. Keith knows Shiro does not want to go there. Knows that Shiro might be over his divorce but not over their fallout. Over leaving Keith behind, just like he had promised he never would.

Good thing Keith does not want to go there, as well. 

“And you still can’t handle your liquor,” Keith sighs into his can and tries to brighten the mood instead, changing he topic.  
  
“Who cannot handle his liquor, youngster? Show some respect!” Shiro chuckles. Keith only bumps their shoulders together before he gets up to get them more beer. 

He assumes he’s dodged the bullet, but if he has learned one thing from living together, it’s that Shiro is just as stubborn and hardheaded as Keith is. 

And so it really should come as no surprise to him when Shiro tries to start where he left off as soon as Keith hands him the new can of beer. Shiro’s eyes fix on him, and it feels as if they are pinning him in place. “Keith, you know, I’m really sorry, I…” 

“No. Let’s not.” Two can play at that game, Keith thinks when he locks his gaze with Shiro as if staring him down would make him reconsider. 

He knew Shiro well enough to know better. “Keith, we have to talk about it!”  
  
“Do we?” Keith’s eyes dart to Shiro, trying his best not to let his face reveal exactly how angry he really feels. They had been fine avoiding the topic for the past few months. Keith would be more than fine to keep it that way.  
  
“Yes! Keith, I hurt you, I’ve been an idiot. You…” Keith interrupts his words when he lowers his head and feels his brows furrow in anger, not wanting to listen to any half-baked excuse Shiro would come up with.  
  
“Way to ruin the mood, Shiro.” He cannot face Shiro now, cannot look into those eyes. The truth - as Keith realizes in the wake of the excuse he’s been waiting for for so long - the truth is, he is not ready to hear it yet. Not ready for the things it implies. Not ready for the cascades of ‘You’re my best friend’ and ‘Let’s be friends forever’. He has heard it more than enough. He is sick of it.   
  
“Please, I’ve been an idiot. You…” Shiro’s persistence is what draws Keith from his thoughts, trying to pick up where he has left off, trying to rub salt into the wound Keith has been licking for so long.  
  
“Yeah, what about me? You really want to go there, Shiro?” Keith’s eyes focus on the beer between his hands again. Or the sand beneath his shoes. Anywhere that is not Shiro.  
  
“Keith.” It’s soft, so soft when Shiro whispers his name. The same brand of soft he always used when he wanted something. Or feels particularly sorry for something. It makes Keith want to laugh in despair as he notices how good he has become in reading Shiro’s whole being.

It had been easy, trying to avoid the elephant in the room. Trying to skirt this very obvious thing neither of them wanted to put a label on.

But if Shiro really wanted to talk about it, Keith would be happy to throw it right back at him. “Tell me Shiro: Why did you move out again?”  
  
“I...” A single sound leaves Shiro’s lips, more punched out than anything. 

  
Bingo.

Keith knows that look. Knows Shiro too well not to read the way his posture, his features tear in discomfort. Everything in Shiro screams to get the upper hand in their conversation again. Just to avoid being stripped bare.

“Why did you move out again, Shiro? After your divorce?” He’s playing dirty, Keith knows he is. But if Shiro wanted the ugly question, he should get what he’s asking for.  
  
“Because I wanted to give you space.” He does not know whether he should laugh or spit at Shiro’s feet for that answer.   
  
“Space was never the problem,” Keith answers instead. 

“Maybe not for you,” comes Shiro’s response, defeated and resigned, lacking any kind substance.

And Keith chokes on his words. 

Days and nights and weeks of asking himself that same question in his hand, desperately searching for an answer, clutching for any straw of an explanation telling him what he had possibly done wrong, could not have prepared him for Shiro’s declaration. All of it, just to hear it had never been his fault to begin with.

Shiro’s answer leaves Keith speechless.

For the first time in what seems an eternity, Keith lifts his head, his eyes searching Shiro’s in his panic, in his loss of words, to find any answer in the familiar face. 

The only thing he finds is sadness.  
  
“You’re right, I shouldn’t have started it.” There’s a sudden stiffness in Shiro’s shoulders, right before he rises, knocking two cans of beer over in the process. The sound of it rattles in Keith’s ears just as poignant as Shiro’s stern voice. “I’m heading to bed. Goodnight, Keith.” 

And, yeah, Keith thinks to himself, the voice in his head bittersweet and filled with spite, it really _ is _ just like good old times.

  
***  
  
  
_ The pain came the second he returned to an empty flat after helping Shiro move. _

_ In the form of sleepless nights, his eyes crusty from crying in the morning. _

_ In the form of binge-watched series and binge-eaten ice-cream pints. _

_ In the form of trying to spend every possible minute out and about, trying to drag Hunk and Pidge out to get drunk, trying to bury himself in the library and in his papers for his college classes._

_ In the form of trying to answer Shiro’s messages as nicely as possible, trying to cheer for him before throwing his phone against the nearest wall in anger. _

_ In the end, it had taken a lot of willpower, top grades in all of his classes, sleep-deprived nights, three one-night stands, two new phones, and an empty bank-account for Keith to come to his senses._

_ And while the sleepless night dwindled, the phone calls with Shiro increased. In between job hunt and wedding preparations, Keith found himself smiling more and crying less. _

_  
And it had been going good, great even. _

_ With Shiro asking him with a blush on his cheeks if Keith wanted to be his best man, and Keith agreeing. _

_ With Shiro coming over for sci-fi nights and Keith preparing his stag party. _

_ With Shiro asking Keith about Kosmo’s dog training and Keith helping Shiro with choosing a bowtie for his wedding. _

_ With Shiro crying while saying yes at the altar and with Keith crying while reciting his best man’s speech. _

_ And crying some more when Shiro was swept away by his husband to their first dance. _

_ Who was he trying to fool? He would never be over loving Shiro. _

  
***

He would never be over Shiro, that much was sure. Not with Shiro’s beautiful smile, his awful workout routine and his way of nonchalantly warming his heart with bad jokes and loving gestures. With his mess of a haircut, his jawline that could cut bones and his firm biceps that simply screamed they wanted to hug him. Shiro is beautiful, inside and out — who was he kidding?  
  
Even now, hours after Shiro has gone to bed for the night, Keith cannot stop his thoughts. He has killed five mosquitos by now as well as their last can of beer, but his feelings numb him, keep him from moving so much as an inch. 

The air night is chill, and he can feel the goosebumps on his skin. The fire has long burnt down, but he can still see the embers glowing bright red against the dark of the night, crackling softly. 

“Can’t you just go out? It’s been long enough!” Keith huffs and basically, he’s not sure if he is talking to the embers or to his feelings for Shiro. Because, damn, it’s been way too long.

Too long to play the feelings down to a simple crush, Keith laughs bitterly. It might have started like that, with Keith falling for Shiro over stupid jokes and their weekly movie marathons. Keith had never felt any kind of romantic or sexual attraction to anyone before, so being faced with Shiro walking around semi-dressed had caused a kind of sexual awakening in Keith he still was not proud of. Especially since he had always been painfully aware of the boyfriend in the picture, and jerking off to the sound of Shiro and Adam in the room next door had been one of his weaker moments that Keith would never live down.

He had been 22 and a fool with a healthy longing for pleasure.

He had tried to be happy for Shiro once Adam had put a ring on his finger. Had tried to swallow down his crush and stand by Shiro’s side, even if that meant swallowing his pride and reciting that goddamn best man’s speech without mentioning the time he caught himself fascinating about kissing Shiro underneath a mistletoe at Christmas. 

The divorce had been a welcome gift to Keith, but still, Shiro was his friend first and his crush second, so being there for Shiro had always been the priority. His feelings had always been secondary. To Shiro _ and _ to himself. 

So why does it hurt so much now when he should be used to his feelings not being taken into consideration, not being Shiro’s main priority? It had always been like this, why should a stupid divorce change that? 

He feels like a fool for getting his hopes up for even a second.

It’s the soft snout of his dog firmly nudging against his shoulder that interrupts his thoughts and when Kosmo lays his head on his lap, Keith delves his fingers through the soft fur right beneath the fluffy ears. 

“I’m such an idiot, Kosmo,” Keith sighs against the fur, and only gets a soft whine in return as he feels a cold nose press against his forearms. 

Here, buried in his dog’s fur, the world feels at least halfway okay, Keith thinks. He wants to stay like this forever, enjoying the quiet night and Kosmo’s low grumble. 

  
*  
  
“Can’t sleep?” It’s Shiro’s warm voice that pierces the silence and it causes Keith to lift his head, his gaze fixed on Shiro who stands behind him, merely three steps away, a blanket around his shoulders.  
  
Kosmo mimics Keith’s motion, piercing Shiro with his big eyes. 

“Mind if I take a seat?” Keith just nods, softly shooing his dog aside to make some space for Shiro to sit before drawing his knees close to his chest. 

And they sit just like that, the silence between them heavy with heartache and unspoken words. And still, it is Shiro’s presence that makes Keith’s heart beat faster. 

He has come back. For him. 

“Hey.” Shiro stares down at the remains of their bonfire, his elbows propped against his knees. His hair is in disarray and there are marks on his cheek where his pillow has been, and Keith thinks it would be charming if it wasn’t for the heavy lump in his stomach. 

“Hey,” is all Keith can answer, and it makes Shiro turn to him. They share a moment in heavy silence before they speak out at the same time.  
  
  
“Keith!” “Shiro!” 

  
The laugh that fills the air between them as soon as they hear each other is liberating, lifting the heavy chip from Keith’s shoulders. He has the faint feeling it does the same for Shiro, with the way Shiro’s lips curve into a soft smile. 

“I’m sorry, I should not have lashed out like that,” Keith admits, his words bashful around the edges. 

But when Shiro’s answer comes, it’s equally coy. “It’s okay. I shouldn’t have started it.”

It’s so typically Shiro that Keith has to shake his head to hide the giddy expression his excuse brings onto his face. He bends over and bumps his shoulders against Shiro’s. “I’m happy you’re doing better, Shiro. I really missed you.”  
  
“Missed you, too, Keith.”

*

The air in the tent feels ten degrees warmer than the outside and Keith is pretty sure he can cut it with a knife. Still, he gets rid of his shirt and his pants in two swift moves, leaving him in only his boxer shorts as he hurries into his sleeping bag laying right next to Shiro’s without a second thought. 

The tent is small, hardly fitting two camping mats crammed against each other, with barely enough space for their two sleeping bags. Keith smiles when he sees the mountain of pillows on Shiro’s side of the bed, while there are two pillows on his side, graciously provided by Shiro.

The sound of steady breath and a light snore tells him Shiro has already fallen asleep before Keith could settle into their makeshift bed, and a sigh escapes his lips. He has always envied Shiro’s ability to simply lay down and sleep basically anywhere.

It’s a second after he has closed his eyes that Keith can feel Shiro’s breath against his skin where Shiro curls himself against him.  
  
And sleep does not come to him at all that night.

***

  
_ The divorce had been world-shattering._

_ In the five years they had known each other, Keith had never experienced Shiro being so distraught, so lost, as the minute he found his friend in front of his door, soaked from the rain and clutching a duffle bag in his hands, his eyes on the floor and his words soft against the platter of the rain, but unmistakable: “You’re still searching for a roommate?” _ _  
_

_ It had taken Keith exactly three seconds to grab Shiro by his jacket, pull him into his apartment and shut the door behind him._

_  
Of course, Keith would be there for Shiro. _

_He would be there on the bad days and the worst, on the days when Shiro would sit in their bathtub for hours after the water had already gone cold, his dead stare fixed on the ceiling.   
_

_ On the days when Shiro tried to cook or draw or play his newly-acquired guitar, Keith would be there to blow out the burning potholder, to catch the glass of water filled with paint and brushes before it could tumble to the ground, to save their neighbors from the sound of the untuned instrument. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ No questions asked, Keith would hand Shiro a pint of ice cream and the remote control to switch to his favorite Netflix show. Because he was a friend. A good friend. Shiro’s best friend. And there was no way his youthful crush would be enough to ever get in the way of their friendship again.   
  
_

_ And one evening, when they found themselves on their sofa just like they used to do before _ everything _ , Shiro with his ankles crossed and Keith with his legs drawn up and his hands wrapped around his knees, rather facing Shiro than the television, it all came back to Keith. It had been too long since they had been sitting on their shared sofa like this._

_ “Hey, you know, I missed this. Missed you,” Keith whispered, while his toes rolled absentmindedly against Shiro’s thighs. When Shiro’s eyes found his, a shy “I missed you, too” between two scoops of ice cream was all it took for Keith’s stomach to sink and for his heart to beat faster._

_ “How do you do that, Keith? Always being there for me, always dragging me out of that pit?” Shiro’s hand landed on his shoulder, a meager substitute for the way Keith wanted Shiro to be closer. _

  
_So the only thing Keith could do was shrug, trying his best to avoid Shiro’s piercing eyes. “Hey, it’s nothing.”_

_Because that had always been the easiest. Acting as if that stupid crush of his didn’t make him look like the biggest fool. Like running after Shiro and dropping everything on a whim as soon as Shiro so much as voiced his discomfort was just the normal way of their brotherly friendship. Not as if, though pretty obvious to everyone else, he would go to the end of the universe for Shiro. _

_ “I don’t know what I would have done without you. You really saved me from drowning myself in a bathtub.” The press of Shiro’s fingers against his shoulder got firmer, forcing Keith to look up in Shiro’s deep-grey eyes, sad and lonely before him, as if they begged Keith for a hug. _

_ Keith could feel his fingers itch for a second. There was nothing he would have liked more than to just pull Shiro in a hug, to feel his warmth against his chest, to inhale the smell of cheap soap and to bury his face in Shiro’s neck. _

_ But it was too much. _

_ He had been trying so hard to hide his feelings, showing any sign of his stupid crush would mean defeat, exposure. And the chance of Shiro leaving him as soon as he realized Keith’s feelings for him were anything but brotherly. _

_So Keith suppressed the urge to pull Shiro into a hug as fast as it had come. _

_ “Oh come on, don’t be a sap. We saved each other,” Keith tried to shrug it off instead, nearly stumbling over the words he added in a rush just to make his exclamation less awkward. “Kosmo would have been lonely without you.” _

_Shiro just smiled in return. Because he knew. Knew too well where Keith would be without him, a socially awkward kid without a roommate, without a plan, and without a best friend. Keith would have been a bundle of bad grades and fear of commitment, and they both were very much aware of that. _

_“So, how many times do you think you have to save me before I will finally get my life back together?” Shiro took another sip of his beer without breaking their eye-contact. And without letting go of Keith’s shoulder. If only, Keith was sure he could feel Shiro’s thumb starting leaving soft circles against the fabric right above his collarbone. _

_ The answer came easy to him. Because he did not have to lie. _

_ Because it felt like a simple principle. _

_ Water was wet, the universe was infinite, and he would always be there for Takashi Shirogane. _

_  
_ _ “As many times as it takes.” _

  
_And as he threw each of his objections away, let his feelings win and pulled Shiro into a hug, Keith realized the youthful crush he had always been harboring for Shiro had made way for something way bigger. _

_He was in love with his best friend. _

_Deeply, madly and painfully obvious. _

_And he was officially screwed. _

_  
_

_ *** _

  
“Man, that was great! There’s nothing better than early-morning exercise!” Shiro exclaims, wiping his face with a wet towel.  
  
The morning brings warm air and chirping birds and Keith thinks it should be illegal to start sweating before breakfast. But when Shiro had suggested a small jog around the lake, Keith had been happy to join, if only to chase any tiredness from his body.  
  
“It’s not even nine and I already need a shower,” Keith huffs, slightly out of breath, while Shiro chugs down a whole bottle of water. Little did he know that Shiro considered five miles ‘a small jog’. 

His shirt is sweat-soaked, and Keith hopes his mind does not play tricks on him when he hears a small whimper from Shiro as soon as he decides to get rid of it.   
  
It’s the whimper that stirs the sudden rush of braveness in Keith. There definitely has been something in the air, in the way Shiro had phrased his words, in the way he had given him _ that _ look last night. 

In the five years of knowing Shiro, Keith had never dared to be brave, to make any kind of move. Would it hurt to try at least once? His bold move catches even himself by surprise, but there’s a cautious grin on his face when he turns around to face Shiro.

Shiro, who is nowhere to be seen.  
  
_ ‘Great job Keith, you’ve scared him away,’ _ he scolds himself and sighs. Obviously Shiro is not interested in any display of naked skin. It seems as if he has misread the tension in the air from the night before. _ ‘No more advances, Keith. Just give it up,’ _ he tells himself, resigned and beaten.  
  
Before Keith can hiss at himself for getting his hopes up, he feels the wet nose of his dog pressing against the back of his hand. At least Kosmo won’t let him down. 

“Hey boy. Did we wake you?” A smile sneaks his way up to Keith’s lips when he thinks back to the way Kosmo had responded with a yawn and half-lidded eyes to Keith’s attempt at waking him and convincing him to join their jog.

Kosmo’s barked answer gets drowned out by a rustle from their tent where Shiro emerges, a sports bag in his hand and his cheeks pink. Keith blames the color on their jog, pretty sure his face is equally tinted.  
  
“Care to join me for a shower?” Shiro asks while he rummages in his bag, pulling out a towel.  
  
And when he looks back up at Keith, Shiro freezes.  
  
Keith is sure he can see Shiro’s brain come to a screeching halt, can see realization about the words he has just uttered hitting him, his eyes widening in shock and his lips quivering suspiciously. 

Had he just...? Did he really...? Keith does not dare to believe his ears.  
  
“I meant… on the way. To the shower. Not as in … shower. Together. I. Better go. See you later,” Shiro stutters. 

Later on, Keith would consider the sight cute, with Shiro tripping over his own feet before dashing off to the communal shower.  
  
A small piece in Keith dares to hope he has not imagined Shiro’s face turning red. He feels his cheeks heat up as well while he takes a few extra seconds to search the tent for a towel and boxer shorts.  
  
He really needs that shower, he admits, with their jog and the sultry morning heat bathing him in sweat, but he can also really needs to just… not meet Shiro in the shower stalls. A sigh escapes his lips before he slaps his cheeks. “Get a grip, Keith.” How old was he? 15?  
  
To buy himself some time, Keith tends to feeding Kosmo first, who happily wags his tail at the sight of food, and takes an extra long time deciding which of the three shirts he brought would be the best to wear today before he admits procrastination is no longer an option.

  
‘ _ Just breathe, it’s only two more days, _’ Keith tells himself while he makes his way to the shower stalls, a pep-talk he knows too well. Years of pining for Shiro have taught him patience if nothing else. 

Shiro might be single again, but that, by no means, makes it any more acceptable for Keith to jump him like a hormonal teenager at any given minute.  
  
After hardly seeing Shiro during his marriage, Keith should be happy he gets to enjoy a few days with Shiro, alone, reminiscing about the old times, just the two of them. As friends. A status Keith had resigned himself to so long ago. Why was it so hard to stick to, all of a sudden?  
  
“You can do this,” Keith ends his pep talk, speaking out loud before he enters the communal bath. Because he can. He fought wars far worse.  
  
All his encouragement still doesn’t seem to help though, when he runs into Shiro as he enters the changing room. 

  
Shiro, who’s only wearing a towel.   
  
Shiro, who’s _ only _ wearing a towel. 

A towel he drops in the wake of the impact. 

Leaving him naked in front of Keith.

  
Damn.

“Oh shit, Keith. Keith, I’m sorry, I’m… let me just get…” 

Averting his eyes from Shiro, who tries his best to hide his crotch with his hands (and kind of fails, as Keith awkwardly notices), Keith groans. He helps a stuttering and blushing Shiro up before fetching his towel for him off the floor. 

Which cruel deity decided it was a good thing to test his patience with the recurring sight of his (semi-)naked crush?  
  
“Thank you, Keith,” Shiro mutters, wrapping his towel around his hips, before awkwardly scratching his head with one hand while the other grabs his towel a bit tighter. “I’m sorry, I just...” Shiro’s face is a deep shade of red. Of course, he’s embarrassed, he had just involuntarily flashed his friend.

“Urgh,” is all Keith remarks. He does not even spare Shiro a second glance as he excuses himself for the private shower cabin, chucking off his clothes in the process. Maybe he could wash away any thoughts about what had just happened.  
  
The water drizzling from the shower is freezing where it hits his skin, but Keith welcomes the cooling.  
  
“Keith, I’ll head back!” He can hear Shiro’s shout over the running water, accompanied by the sound of a door shutting. And Keith is finally alone. 

The cabin is spacious, spacious enough for two people to easily fit into, and Keith curses himself for the faintest thought of sharing it with Shiro.  
  
With his broad chest, Shiro would actually take up most of the space in the stall, making Keith retreat to the cold wall – Keith presses his hand to the tiles to feel the chill, a harsh contrast to the shower water that’s gradually warming up.

Grazing his fingers over the cold tiles, Keith’s head conjures up the image of Shiro pressing him up against the wall, his hot breath against Keith’s neck. One hand would be delved into his hair, while Keith is positive he can actually feel the ghostly grip of Shiro’s hand on his ass, lifting one of his legs in the process. It would be so easy to wrap his legs around Shiro’s firm torso, Shiro would surely be strong enough to hoist him up.   
  
A moan escapes his lips when his fingers tremble down his stomach, curling around his cock. As if the sight of Shiro earlier was not enough, combined with the thoughts of him being pressed against the tiles, Keith can already feel the pulsing need between his legs begin to grow.  
  
As he starts to stroke himself, faintly at first, the image of naked Shiro comes to his mind – Shiro’s hands had not been able to completely hide the size he is endowed with. With his free hand, Keith braces himself against the tiles, his mouth buried in the crook of his arm to muffle his moans. _ Fuck _ , he had imagined Shiro to be _ big _, just as proportional to the rest of his build, but imagining it and seeing it were two completely different things. 

It is hard not to imagine stroking Shiro’s generous length while Shiro would have them both pressed against the tiles. It would feel so good in his hands and Keith would make sure Shiro would enjoy it just as much. Flicking his wrist just right, letting his thumb swipe over the head of Shiro’s cock light as a feather at first before pressing down, intensifying his touch. 

He would take special care of the underside before resuming to stroke Shiro’s whole length, just up and down, in a steady rhythm that would be accompanied by Shiro’s heavy breathing. He could take such good care of Shiro, Keith assures himself, imagining the drops of precum waiting for him at the top of Shiro’s cock, inviting him to just delve down, licking it from the tip.  
  
Would Shiro stop him in his dive, pin his hands above his head while pressing his mouth against his ear, whispering “My turn!” in a dark and seductive voice?  
  
Keith blames the water when his mouth slips from his skin, making a moan leave his lips, a bit too loud to be drowned by the shower. He hopes there’s nobody in the changing room witnessing his _ situation _. 

Not sure if the heat springs from the steaming water or his steaming thoughts, Keith throws his head back when a particularly loud moan slips from his mouth. He can feel the wet strands of his hair graze his back, brushing against his skin with every move of his hand where it’s occupied with his pulsing erection. 

His thoughts shift back to Shiro, how Shiro would keep his hands pinned above his head with one hand, while the other would take hold of Keith’s hardening cock, mirroring Keith’s actual movement, strokes firm and rhythmic, eliciting soft moans from Keith. Keeping one leg wrapped around Shiro’s hip, Keith would try to press him closer, to cast out every inch of air between them. The water would make it harder, his leg slipping at least once before it would get a better hold on Shiro’s waist, drawing him in. His cock would be trapped between their bellies and he could feel the tip brushing against Shiro’s equally hard dick.  
  
He would only realize after throwing his head back in a wave of pleasure that the movement leaves Shiro the perfect opportunity to attack and it’s as if he could _ feel _ the thrilling pain of Shiro’s teeth softly sinking into the skin of his neck. Shiro would _ so _ leave a hickey and later on apologize a thousand times for the pain it caused, Keith chuckles, but the sound fades into another moan.  
  
Keith can feel himself getting closer to his climax, his imagination doing its best to heighten his pleasure. It’s wrong, so _ wrong _ . And he knows, he _ knows _ it is.  
  
But if it’s wrong, why does it feel so good to imagine Shiro biting his earlobe, whispering in the most arousing voice “Hold tight”, while he would hoist him up, pressing his back against the cold tiles, Keith’s legs wrapped around his waist, Shiro sinking into him with a burning pleasure, bottoming out with a single stroke. Filling Keith up with his generous cock, making Keith feel like he’s about to burst.  
  
Which he does.  
  
“Shit,” Keith can only groan when his climax brings him back to reality, white stripes of cum against the shower tiles and his belly.  
  
As he watches the proof of his slip vanishing down the drain, Keith bites his lips and his fist hits the tiles with enough strength to make his knuckles hurt.  
  
“Dammit!”  
  
*  
  
“Hey Keith, I’m-- I’m sorry!” When Keith returns to their camping spot ten minutes later, Shiro seemed to have gone on a cleaning spree. Their camping table is set up while the empty beer cans have vanished from where they had left them lying around their campfire the night before.

Keith just waves off Shiro’s attempts at an apology.  
  
“Hey, I’ve brought breakfast.” Shiro’s face relaxes into a soft smile when he places the small bag full of bread rolls he snatched from the store next to the shower stalls onto their camp table.  
  
“Just let me get some knives and jam real quick!” Shiro hurries off to another one of his boxes, diving into it in search of cutlery.  
  
“Hurry up, I’m hungry.” It’s a lie, but Keith laughs nonetheless, trying to enjoy the sight of Shiro bent over the boxes, his backside on full display for him to take in.  
  
“You haven’t brought any marshmallows by chance?” And maybe, just maybe, Keith feels himself fall even deeper for Shiro’s laugh and the smile that spreads on his face when he tosses the bag of marshmallows at him.  
  
  
**

  
Of course, the heat only gets worse and by the time lunch comes around, Shiro voices the great idea to go swimming in the lake. There’s a small artificial beach they are allowed to use and nothing sounds more appealing than jumping headfirst into cold water. So Shiro shoves two clean towels into Keith’s hands while he grabs a parasol and a bag full of ‘essentials’ as he would like to call them. 

Keith is sure he can spot at least one water gun and two floatables mixed with a water bottle and sunscreen and he starts wondering if maybe, just maybe, he and Shiro don’t share the same concept of ‘essentials’.  
  
He silently wonders why exactly he just came back from a shower, and how many towels Shiro has brought, but the heat is just too much to actually do anything but lying around, so he won’t complain. 

They leave it to Kosmo to find a perfect spot on the sandy beach and spread their towels under the big parasol. “Good boy,” Shiro pats Kosmo, who woofs at the praise, wagging his tail expectantly. 

Keith only groans. “Don’t look at me like that. You won’t get a treat for finding an empty spot.” But his dog simply ignores his words and continues wagging his tail, turning his head to Shiro.  
  
“Oh Kosmo, you’ve heard him. No more treats.” When the dog lays down and props his head upon his front paws, his big eyes looking up at Shiro, Keith knows exactly what comes next.  
  
“Maybe one small treat?” Keith swears Shiro’s eyes are just as big as Kosmo’s and he can’t help but bury his face in one hand. Great, now his dog has corrupted Shiro to plot against him.   
  
Grumbling, he searches for the treats in Shiro’s bag, making sure he fishes out the smallest one he can find. Kosmo greedily gulps it down before heading for the water.  
  
“He sure has you wrapped around his paw, doesn’t he?” Shiro laughs while he grabs one of the floatables from his bag. It seems to be an air mattress.  
  
“Don’t play innocent with me, Shiro. You conspired against me.” Keith is glad that searching for the sunscreen gives him an excuse not to look to where Shiro’s mouth is occupied with inflating the mattress. Shiro’s lips should not make him break out in a sweat, dammit. But the way they are closed around the valve does not leave much to his imagination and Keith can feel his face turn warmer – and this time not because of the heat of the midday sun.  
  
While he has no idea why Shiro had insisted on bringing a water gun, Keith finds the sunscreen way too fast for his liking.  
  
“Uhm, could you..?” he turns back to Shiro, who has fortunately finished his mattress and hands him the bottle of sunscreen. “I burn easily.”  
  
“Of course, lay down,” Shiro answers with a smile. Keith tries not to swallow too hard, but the gulp rings in his ears when Shiro decides the best and comfiest way to apply sunscreen to Keith’s back is by sitting on his bottom.  
  
And damn, Keith does not know what is worse. Having to watch his crush using his very skillful mouth to sinfully blow up an air mattress or having his soft fingers knead sun blocker into his back while is groin is attached to Keith's ass.  
  
_ Oh boy _ , Keith hopes he does not imagine Shiro being extra careful and taking longer than needed when his fingers are slowly traveling further down. There is moan on his lips and Keith tries his best to hold it back, desperately attempting to choke on it. But the fingers on his lower back make it even harder to concentrate.  
  
‘ _ It’s Shiro. And he thinks of you as a friend, _ ’ Keith tells himself, while conjuring pictures of really cold things in his mind. It’s already hot enough in the sun, even with the parasol. But the sudden heat he feels on his face has nothing to do with the soft fingertips that are grazing just above the waistband of his swimming trunks.  
  
‘Just your friend, giving you a friendly back massage because that’s what friends are for’. Because there is no way the fingertips sneaking _ underneath _ the waistband are meant in any other way than friendly. Friends. Best friends.  
  
Fate really wants to test his patience. 

Keith is sure he can taste blood where his teeth sink into his bottom lip, but it is better than having to admit to Shiro that, _ yes, I’m moaning, because you’re giving your best friend a hard-on, thank you very much _ .  
  
“Done!” Keith is sure his lips are so close to releasing that moan when he hears Shiro’s voice and feels his weight leave his lower body. He already misses Shiro’s soft skin against his legs, though his lips feel grateful for the relief of pressure when he stops biting his bottom lip.

“I’m going to check the water. Wanna come?” Shiro looks saint-like from where he’s crouching down, his hand reaching out for him and the sun haloing his head from behind. And Keith thinks those abs should be illegal. 

  
He shakes his head though. “I have to wait for the sunscreen to seep in. Go ahead.” It’s a bad excuse and Keith tries explicitly not to think about the hardness between his legs or the heat on his face, but Shiro does not seem to notice his discomfort when he leaves with his air mattress in tow. 

And finally, the groan he’s been holding back for the last couple of minutes escapes his lips.  
  
Could this weekend get any worse?

*

  
“I’m gonna kill you!”  
  
When Keith wakes up an hour later, it’s not from Shiro whispering “Time to rise and shine, sleeping beauty!” into his ear, but from ice-cold water on his skin.  
  
From the way Shiro’s eyes glisten down on him, Keith can tell the freezing drops on his back came directly from Shiro’s hair. 

The smug smile on Shiro’s lips only rounds out the boyish sight, and it does take Keith exactly five seconds to turn and grab a water gun from their bag to get back to Shiro. There’s some water left in it from when Shiro must have filled it before and Keith is thankful for every shooting game at their local fairground training his aim when the first shot of water hits Shiro right on his chest.  
  
“Hey Keith, that’s unfair!” Shiro proclaims while jumping to his feet before hurrying off. Keith cannot help but laugh at Shiro’s feigned fear.  
  
“And waking me up like this is fair?” Keith’s next shot hits Shiro’s head, just a bit higher than intended, and Keith has to get up to actually stay in a shooting range as Shiro makes his way down to the lake.  
  
Kosmo only creaks an eye open at the sudden rise of their voices, but turns his head around in an unimpressed manner, going back to napping, when Keith stumbles to his feet, following Shiro.  
  
The water is ice cold and Keith hisses when he runs in after Shiro. But the thought of revenge dominates his mind as he holds the water gun up again, aiming at Shiro’s chest. The gun is empty after two more shots, both missing Shiro who simply laughs while trying to escape from Keith’s wrath.  
  
“You know how they say revenge is sweet, Shirogane?” There’s a challenging tone swinging with his words when Keith bends down, his water gun taking way too long to fill again. He has to keep his eyes on the gun for a second to fix the clasp – and the second is enough for Shiro to sneak off to some kids playing at the beach.

Keith is hit by the hard jet of water from a big water blaster just a moment later, as Shiro has managed to snatch the gun from one of the kids.  
  
“Come at me, Keith!” He did not think Shiro’s grin could get any more smug. When cold water hits his arm, Keith jumps after Shiro with an outcry, but wading through knee-high water slows him down and Shiro, who’s still in the shallow water at the shore, also has a bigger range with his blaster. 

  
Keith finds himself in the inferior position, the water gun in his hands feeling too small to keep up with Shiro’s stolen water soaker.  
  
But Keith still can count on the element of surprise.  
  
“Hey Shiro, I yield!” Keith hopes his determined voice does not betray him, when he lowers his gun, approaching Shiro with big steps.  
  
Shiro’s laughter fills the air. “Does that mean I win?”

And Keith shrugs, bringing a victorious smile to Shiro’s lips while he lowers his gun. Which is exactly the moment Keith has waited for. 

So he lungs for Shiro, tackling him with his whole body weight.  
  
“Gotcha!” Keith exclaims before Shiro’s arms wrap around his body. 

“Sorry to disappoint you, but… seems like I got you,” Shiro whispers into his ear, and both men laugh.  
  
  
Before Shiro stumbles backward. 

And pulls Keith with him in the process.

  
Hours later, Keith will still wonder how they both managed to lose their footing. 

Figuring it out is not a priority though, not when he finds himself pressed against Shiro’s body, propped up on his elbows and their faces inches apart, both catching their breaths. Shiro still has his arms around Keith's waist, erasing any kind of distance between their lower bodies.  
  
The water is shallow where they fell, barely playing around Shiro’s ears, and Keith hopes Shiro is not hurt from landing on any stones. Shiro’s cheeks are slightly pink, Keith notices from how close they are. He can even spot small drops of water nestled in Shiro’s lashes. His eyes are blown wide and Keith is sure he can feel the other’s heart hammering through his chest right into his own, and it must surely be from their chase before, from their laughter, because there is no way Shiro could feel the same way.

There’s no way Shiro also feels like his heart is about to beat out of his ribcage from the way their bodies are pressed together, from their lips being just inches apart, from the way hot breath grazes his face.  
  
They are so close — so incredibly close — and Keith can see Shiro’s eyes wander to his lips. It would be so easy, so, so easy to bend down, to breach these last few inches, to finally kiss Shiro.  
  
Shiro, who softly calls his name. Barely a whisper, but it’s there, filled with an unknown longing Keith wishes he was not imagining.   
  
Keith decides to just stop thinking and closes his eyes. 

He bends down, his lips barely a soft breath on Shiro’s lips.

And stops dead in his tracks.

  
“Hey assholes, I want my super soaker back!”  
  
It’s the pesky kid Shiro stole the water gun from, standing at the shore, his arms angrily propped up against his hips.

The groan that escapes his lips when he raises reluctantly makes Shiro chuckle at him and Keith rolls his eyes while he offers Shiro his hand to help him up. Keith’s knees hurt from where they have been pressed against wet stones just a second ago, but it’s secondary when he pulls Shiro up a bit too forcefully. Of course, Shiro lands in his arms, pressed against his chest again. Because why would the universe leave out this chance to tease him?

“Oh, Keith, I’m sorry!” And all Keith can do is curse again while a blushing Shiro stutters an excuse and pulls back as fast as possible – leaving Keith’s arms empty and his heart aching. It’s one thing to assume that Shiro has only brotherly feelings for him, but seeing it so painfully obvious in his actions hurts even more.  
  
Instead of lingering in Keith’s space for another second, Shiro turns to the boy, returning the stolen water gun with the promise of compensatory ice cream. 

  
Damn, this weekend _ really _ wants to test his patience.  
  
  
***

_ It had taken Shiro exactly five weeks, thirteen pints of ice cream, two boxes of tissues and six Planet Earth rewatches to get back on track after the breakup. _

_ Keith was amazed by Shiro’s sudden change. As if someone had suddenly turned on a switch inside of Shiro’s head, he woke up one day and felt the desire to go on a jog again. One jog turned into two and then into a day at the gym, and soon Shiro was back to his regular workout routine. _

_ Life was good to Shiro, Keith figured, as he helped his friend get his first job interview. Two days later, Shiro turned up with a new job, a new car and a new flat. And just before Keith could complain he would miss him, Shiro gave him a calendar with ever Friday night marked red, scrawny letters reading “Movie Night!” next to cute drawings of popcorn and monsters. _

_ Two months after the divorce all that was left to remind them of those five weeks of post-divorce Shiro were some weird food leftovers in their freezer and a layer of dust on one of Shiro’s sketchbooks. _

_ And Keith knew Shiro would be okay.  
_

_ Keith knew Shiro would be okay by the way he laughed more. By the way he cried less.  
__  
By the way he called more often just to talk about the weather and ask about Kosmo._

_ By the way he would throw popcorn at Keith when Keith pointed out flaws in their favorite movies during movie night. _

_ By the way he hugged Keith more often, each time a millisecond longer, each time just the tiniest bit harder. _

_  
And when Keith gets a call four weeks later, asking if he would like to join Shiro on a camping trip, Keith smiles into his phone and thinks that _‘Finally, finally I’m not alone anymore.’  
  


***  


“You cannot imagine how much I’ve missed s’mores!” 

Once the sun is setting, they find themselves in front of the bonfire again. This time Shiro comes prepared with marshmallows -– and Keith comes with more emotions than he feels he can handle.

The grin on Shiro’s lips is tinted with chocolate and his fingers are sticky with melted sugar and there is no way Keith will ever forget the boyish expression on Shiro’s face as he holds the first S’more in his hands, the sun bathing him in the last rays of sunshine.

And while Shiro is carefully lining up marshmallows on sticks and prepares more crackers and chocolate, Keith tries to calm his nerves with a cool can of their cheap beer against his cheek. From his _ escapade _ in the showers earlier over Shiro’s way too extended back massage to having Shiro pinned underneath him – the day has been way too long already, and the prospect of going to bed and sleeping to avoid any further emotional mishap sounded delightful to him. 

At least he could avoid talking to Shiro while he was sleeping. Or pretending he was asleep. Considering the previous night, his thoughts keeping him awake seems a valid possibility. If this weekend getaway did anything to him, it was throwing his feelings in an even bigger disarray as he had ever thought possible. 

It really _ is _ time to go home and dodge Shiro’s messages and calls for a few days, just to sort out his feelings and stop his heart from beating faster anytime he so much as looked at Shiro. 

Keith’s thoughts get distracted when he lets his eyes wander over their tent side, over the trillion boxes Shiro had brought and hardly opened, to the backside of their tent where unfamiliar flashes of light catch his attention.

He first thinks he’s imagining the small lights. Maybe he is dehydrated. Maybe it is the punishment for his attempt to finally kiss Shiro. Maybe this is what too much pining does to him. So he blinks again, several times, takes a sip from his beer and stares at the bonfire and then back to the lights. 

They are still there, continuously glowing. 

“What are those?” he asks, his gaze fixed on the irregular pattern flashing up. He nods his head in the direction of the lights, hoping Shiro would see them too. Shiro only mutters “Oh” before his eyes flutter back down to the marshmallows he is roasting in their bonfire.  
  
“Didn’t think we would see fireflies out here. It’s been some time since I’ve seen some,” Shiro explains nonchalantly while he inspects the marshmallow on his stick thoroughly. As if he had not just casually told Keith that he was actually witnessing goddamn _ fireflies _. 

Growing up in the desert had made him keep snakes as pets and become friends with spiders and scorpions, but fireflies had been something completely different. To be fair, he might have thought of them as made up until now, the idea of glowing insect butts could easily be stuff people put into stories to make them even more sappy and clichéd. But seeing the tiny flashing lights whirring so close to their tent seemed so miraculous, Keith feels utterly fascinated. He can hardly keep the “wow” from escaping his lips, making Shiro chuckle while he attempts to save one marshmallow from dying a scorching death.

When Kosmo barks one sharp and poignant wuff, Keith realizes he is not the only one amazed by the sight of the glowing insects in front of him. His fixed gaze on the backside of their tent had stirred Kosmo’s attention, and from where he has been sitting in front of their tent (like the good guard dog he is), Kosmo jumps up and waddles to the hedge, his tail sweeping in excitement and the rhythmic jingling of his dog tags clinking together filling the air, soon joined by more excited barking. 

“Hey, Kosmo, it’s okay, they won’t hurt you,” Keith jokes, but his dog does not seem too bothered by his words. When the barking doesn’t seem to affect the lights, Kosmo tries snatching for the insects. It’s when he starts jumping after the glowing spots in the air that Keith decides to whistle for his dog to stop bothering the fireflies and come sit with them again.

“Be a good boy and come here, Kosmo!” Keith exclaims and Kosmo does so reluctantly, easily convinced with a treat – or five – before rolling up next to Keith again. Suspiciously eyeing the marshmallows with his snout on his fore-paws, he aims the biggest puppy eyes at Shiro, well aware the man is not immune to his canine cuteness. 

“I know what you’re up to, Kosmo. You won’t get any,” Shiro says just as casually as he has announced the presence of goddamn fireflies (Keith still can’t believe it. Fireflies. Damn.), while he carefully assembles another s’more before handing it to Keith.

It’s sickeningly sweet and leaves his teeth sticky with sugar and his lips smeared with chocolate. It’s not exactly the best thing he’s ever tasted, but Shiro beams at him as if he expects him to never eat anything else again, so he smiles and nods at him, and Shiro hands him another one.

Keith takes a tentative bite, trying to avoid the inevitable sugar-rush, when he sees Shiro lean back, his gaze lifted towards the sky where the setting sun has finally made way for the starry night sky, with constellations twinkling down at them.

It’s domestic, sitting like this, at their bonfire and sharing sweets, the calm of the night around them and the infinity of space above their heads. Keith is pretty sure he can see Venus shimmer in the sea of lights. 

It makes him feel small and sends a shiver down his spine, causing Shiro to turn to him with eyes wide open.  


“Keith, you’re freezing!” he exclaims, his voice dripping with worry as he lifts his hands to rub against Keith’s elbow. Shiro’s concern is charming, especially since Keith is not used to having so much attention on him. But Shiro exaggerates, exorbitantly. So Keith tries to play it down, in vain. “Don’t worry, it’s nothing, I’m fine!” 

“Give me a sec,” is all Shiro throws back at him, unimpressed by Keith’s words, before he gets up in a hurry, disappearing into their tent before Keith can say another word.

Trying to stop a determined Shiro in his tracks has always been a fruitless endeavor. Keith sighs while he searches for another can of beer to wash the sweet aftertaste from his mouth. Still, he can feel his lips curving into a smile. It’s nice to feel like Shiro cares about him.   


When Shiro exits their tent again, there’s a heavy blanket in his arms. He stops on his way back to the bonfire just once, switching on the fairy lights. The sight is just as sickeningly sweet as the s’mores and makes Keith snicker and remark “You sap,” before shaking his head theatrically. The dim glow of the string of lights does nothing against the pitch-black night around them, and still, it’s such a corny and typically Shiro thing that Keith can feel the butterflies flutter in his stomach as well.  
  
When the soft fabric of the woolen blanket lands on his shoulders, Keith cannot help but smile and bury himself in it. “You’ve really thought this through, haven’t you?” 

His breath gets stuck in his throat when Shiro settles down next to him again, and Keith swears he sits at least five inches closer than before, their shoulders barely touching underneath the blanket and their knees bumping awkwardly against each other when Shiro reaches for the remaining s’mores.  
  
There’s a light shade of pink on Shiro’s cheeks and he seems to avoid his eyes when he hands him another one of the crackers, and they start nibbling in silence. 

  
*

“We used to do this a lot, Adam and I. Before we got married,” Shiro breaks the calm between them. Keith’s eyes land on him, while Shiro’s eyes are fixed on the night sky and the thought leaves a bittersweet taste in his mouth that doesn’t mix well with the taste of cheap beer. 

Hasn’t it always been like this? Shiro shooting for the stars and Keith shooting for Shiro? 

If Shiro looks for Keith’s approving nods or words, but he doesn’t have any to give. His fingers fidgeting with the tassels of the blanket the only sign of his discomfort.

“Somewhere along the way, the magic got lost. ‘Let’s stay inside, Takashi,’ he would say. ‘Let’s do something boring. Let’s go into some art exhibit. Just think about the dirt. And the mosquitos.’” The way Shiro’s eyes flutter closed underline the bittersweet smile on his lips just right and Shiro shakes his head as if getting rid of sad memories was as easy as that. 

“I hate art exhibits,” Shiro continues. With a resigned sigh, he draws his gaze away from the stars, searching Keith’s face instead.

The way Shiro’s eyes fix on his makes Keith want to let his fingers run over Shiro’s cheeks, makes him want to pull Shiro in a hug. Makes Keith want to bump their shoulders together. Which he does. “Isn’t that supposed to happen in every marriage? The fire slowly dying?”  
  
“After one year?” He can hear the bitterness in Shiro’s voice.

“Shit happens,” Keith shrugs, taking another sip of beer. What does he know about love? His only experience with romance came from three one-night stands and pining for his best friend for five years straight. As far as the monsters in his head are concerned, he has caught himself several times, selfishly wishing the fire between Shiro and Adam had never been there in the first place.

“Not that it’s any of my business, but…. At least you wasted only two years and not... five? Ten?” He can see Shiro’s fingers clench against the soft fabric for a short second before his grip around the blanket relaxes. 

“You’re right.” Keith can actually hear the resignation in his words.  
  
“I was young, naive, in love…” Shiro sighs. “Should have known when he cried over the folding of the napkins and panicked over the flowers at our wedding being the wrong color while I… didn’t even care?” The shrug of his shoulders is barely visible, but Keith has learned how to read Shiro’s body language well enough to know the subject is harder for him to broach than he pretends.  
  
“At one point he accused me of mentioning you too often. Who am I to blame? You’re my best friend, we’ve been living together for three years, I could come to you with everything. Of course, I would talk about you.”  
  
A resigned “yeah” leaves Keith’s lips, his eyes fixed on the can in his hands at Shiro’s notion of being ‘best friends’. The list of ingredients suddenly seems highly interesting.

“But then Adam said something funny.”

The writing on the can is suddenly _ very _ interesting. Keith ponders if 8% alcohol is a lot for beer. 

“He said I was looking at you the same way he was looking at me.”

Maybe it was the alcohol’s fault he started imagining the subtle undertone in Shiro’s voice, the meaning between his words, the thing he really wanted him to be saying. 

Would the alcohol be enough of an excuse just to jump up and stop their conversation right there?

“And that he had watched you looking at me the same way back.”

  
Shiro’s words are soft but certain and there is a minor tremble in his voice. His own fingers are shaking, Keith notices, and he’s sure it’s from the chill of night. It _ has _ to be from the chill of night.

“And that made me think.”   


With a shattering sound, the beer can slips from Keith’s hands and hits the ground. “Damn, I’m sorry!” is all that Keith manages to mutter and he is sure his fingers are shaking even stronger as he reaches for the can. 

Before he can get there, he feels Shiro’s fingers close around his hand. 

It’s soft, heartstopping even, the way Shiro’s thumb circles over his skin, exploring this new kind of intimacy, the pressure against Keith’s hand so tentative, as if Keith was made of glass. As if Shiro was afraid he could break the fragile skin by just so much as whispering against it.  
  
Keith forgets how to breathe.

Instead, his eyes follow Shiro’s movements, fascinated by the way soft fingers tentatively wander over the back of his hand, a shy thumb gradually joined by another finger at first, then two, then three. Until Keith’s whole hand is tingling with the sensation of being caressed.

He feels the tip of Shiro’s fingers graze over his knuckles before they slide along his thumb, smooth and certain, as if Keith could not feel the slight tremble underneath Shiro’s skin.

Their hands move in unison, as if they were searching for each other, painfully slow, and the moment the tips of their fingers brush, Keith feels like he’s overflowing with fear and hope at the same time, so much it’s tearing him apart and putting him together at the same time. 

A gentle gasp escapes Keith’s lips when their fingers interlace.

The way their fingers fit together makes Keith’s heart beat faster and his skin tingle.   


It’s scary, it’s cosmic, it’s twisting his guts while filling his chest with warmth at the same time.

It’s everything to Keith.   


There’s a soft press against the back of his hand that Keith happily returns. The sensation of their slotted hands is overwhelming and the slightest bit frightening. He feels his palm begin to sweat, feel the hairs on his arms rise where his skin is plastered with goosebumps, but it’s irrelevant, so irrelevant when all that matters is Shiro’s hand holding his. 

The tug is subtle at first, barely noticeable, but when Shiro draws their hands up to his chest, Keith cannot help but let his gaze follow, watching their fingers move gently against each other before he dares to let his eyes wander upwards – just so his eyes lock with Shiro’s.

He has been so distracted by the gentle press of Shiro’s skin against his fingertips that Shiro’s soft gaze catches him off guard. The most beautiful smile lies on Shiro’s lips and there’s a faint blush tainting his cheeks in a charming shade of pink, one that is only highlighted by the golden hues of the bonfire.  
  
“Keith.” When Shiro says his name, Keith is completely and utterly lost. 

“Shiro, I..”

“I’m sorry for moving out. I know I needed some space. I thought I was done sorting out my feelings. Only to realize I had barely begun.” Shiro’s words are heavy with regret and yet tinged with something else. Something Keith cannot place. Does not dare hope to place.  
  
“Shiro,” Keith breathes the name out, merely a whisper between them.  


But Shiro shakes his head, while he applies soft pressure to Keith’s hand, providing solid reassurance. “No, please, let me finish.”

It’s all too much for Keith to fathom. One second they’re talking, the next Shiro’s is lacing their fingers together and trying to tell him he has feelings for him that might be anything but brotherly. 

“I know, I haven’t been the best friend. But Keith, I really, _ really, _” he puts a lot of emphasis on that word, “want you to know that you can always count on me. If I had one constant in my life over the last few years, it’s been you.   
  
“With you, I feel at home. Damn, you even make this damn campsite feel like home! You’re the only one I can be myself with. Even... no, especially when you’re throwing popcorn at me at three in the morning.” Shiro’s words put a smile on both of their lips and their cheeks turn even pinker when their eyes meet. Keith has to look away, shy and caught, while his heart pounds loudly in his chest, so much he can hear the steady rhythm rushing in his ears. 

“I won’t say marrying Adam was a mistake. I’ve had my lesson. But if I learned one thing from it…” Shiro’s eyes flutter close, before he looks down at their locked fingers again, where the bonfire adds an ethereal glow to where they are touching.  


“Keith.” His name on Shiro’s lips sounds like a prayer. The air between them is heavy with unspoken words and Keith catches himself thinking that it’s _ too _ perfect, _ too _ cliché, that there is no way he would hear _ those _ words from Shiro.  


“I never want anything to come between us anymore. I won't give up on you ever again. I...”   


So close, Shiro is so close, Keith notices, when he feels his breath on the back of his hands, on his fingers, on his cheeks. He’s so close, the same way that Keith has bent forward, hovering into the space between them, their interlaced fingers the only distance between them. 

“Keith,” Shiro whispers, bending even closer so their hands bump against his chest.

“Shiro,” Keith whispers in return, as he can feel Shiro’s other hand graze his jaw, his thumb barely a whisper on his lips, but it’s enough to fill his chest with warmth and make his heart beat faster.   


Keith sees stars reflecting in his eyes and the starry night sky is nothing compared to the depth of Shiro’s beautiful grey eyes. Keith feels his hands shake like crazy, but it’s okay. It’s okay because where Shiro’s hand is laid against his jaw, he feels the trembling fingers caressing his skin.  
  
“You’ve got chocolate on your lips.” And just like that, Shiro bends over.  
  
It’s the easiest thing in the world for him to simply lean into the space where Shiro meets him halfway. When their lips touch, it’s not butterflies and explosions, but it feels like all of him sings ‘home, home, finally home’ against the soft press of Shiro’s lips.

  
Keith barely has time to register how Shiro’s mouth feels on his when Shiro pulls back, just enough to put a small distance between them. Keith misses the feeling already, wants to chase his lips and press against them until he’s breathless, wants to lose himself in their touches.

Shiro is beautiful, Keith thinks, as he watches him opening his eyes hesitantly, the light from the bonfire dancing in the flutter of his eyelashes. and reflecting on the grey of his eyes. He can feel Shiro’s fingertips on his chin, barely enough to hold him steady, as if Shiro was afraid he would jump up and run from him.  
  
“Is this okay?” Shiro asks, his voice all soft and dripping with admiration. Keith wants to bath in the sound of it forever. 

“Yeah.” It’s barely a whisper, but Keith is astonished he managed to make the word at least somewhat coherent with the state of his mind. The questioning expression on Shiro’s face nearly makes him stumble over his words as he adds “Yeah, more than okay, actually.”   


Their blanket flies to the ground in a swift motion and Keith barely has a chance to finish his sentence when Shiro dives in again, pressing their mouths together. But he does not complain, not when it’s warm and grounding, tentatively slow like they have all the time in the world to explore each other.

Which they do.  
  
  
Shiro kisses like he hugs: soft and calm, timid even, as if there was any way he could go too fast. Or too slow. Each move cautious. It’s Keith who dares to deepen their kiss, it’s Keith who lets his tongue slide over Shiro’s bottom lip. 

It’s a familiar feeling, being too afraid to initiate anything, but it’s Shiro who has kissed him first. Shiro who has kissed him for a second time, and now it is Shiro who opens his mouth for him, so welcoming, that Keith can feel his fingers tremble when Shiro licks into his mouth for the first time, his first shyness soon giving way to an explorative force as he bends forward, returning the affection by sighing into Shiro’s mouth. His palms press against Shiro’s cheeks as he pulls him against his mouth, trying to get him closer because he finally, finally does not have to hold back anymore. 

He wants to make this count, wants Shiro to remember to this kiss, even if it should be the first and last one they should ever share, the pleased moans coming from Shiro’s mouth as his teeth sink into Shiro’s lip tells him he’s doing a good job. 

They have to part, eventually, Keith knows as much, but he does not want, cannot want their kissing to end, not when Shiro hooks his fingers around the back of Keith’s neck like that. And the feeling that Shiro might just be as afraid of stopping as he is makes him giddy, makes him smile into their kiss – which ironically is what makes them pull apart.

Keith is sure his lips must be just as red and kiss-swollen as Shiro’s look in the firelight, and his cheeks feel just as flushed, but there has never been a lovelier look on Shiro’s face, he decides as he tries to burn the image into his mind. 

He feels like bursting at the seams when Shiro presses their foreheads together, panting out tiny huffs that make Keith’s skin tingle where they hit his face. 

“Chocolate? Really?” Of all the things he could have said, from stuttered love confessions to awkwardly asking why, Keith is proud of choosing the one option that makes it seems as if Shiro had not just kissed all of his coherency away. He is rewarded by a blissed grin on Shiro’s lips. And distracted by soft fingertips playing with the short hairs along the back of his neck. 

“I was only telling the truth!” Shiro laughs into the space between them before he flicks one of his thumbs over the edge of Keith’s lip, finding a last bit of chocolate. The sound Keith makes as Shiro licks the chocolate from his finger while looking at him through those long lashes, too sensuously not to be intended, feels a bit embarrassing. But Keith cannot help it, not when Shiro’s gaze sets him on fire.  
  
“Please,” is all he can press out. “Tell me you’re serious.” 

He can feel Shiro’s hand at his cheek before their foreheads touch again, making him look up in Shiro’s eyes. Keith does not know how he could ever so much a breathe again without touching Shiro.

“Keith, baby, of course, I am serious. I want this. I want us.” If the endearment has not already punched the air out of his lungs, Keith is sure the confession does the rest. 

“I just –.” It’s a bad habit, how his teeth bite into his bottom lip, how he automatically tries to flee from Shiro’s gaze by averting his eyes. “I just don’t want to be a rebound.”

_I couldn’t stand to lose you again _, is what he wants to say, but the words get stuck in his throat when Shiro looks at him like that. Hurt and vulnerable. And soft. Oh so soft for him.   
  
“Keith, look at me.” It’s a wish he cannot deny Shiro. Keith melts under his words and he’s sure it has nothing to do with the warmth of their campfire. ”You’re everything to me. But if there is one thing you’re not, it’s a rebound.”   
  
Shiro surprises him when he draws him closer, but the gentle kiss Shiro leaves on his forehead makes up for it immediately. It leaves his knees weak and his heart beating faster.   
  
“Shiro.” The name a soft prayer on his lips, Keith just looks at Shiro, taking him in. Shiro, who has just admitted to wanting him as much as Keith yearns for him. Shiro, laying his feelings bare in front of him, his for the taking.   
“I’m yours, Keith. If you want me.” 

And Keith would take everything.   
  
  
Diving in is easy, Shiro’s mouth just waiting for him to kiss him senseless. When their lips meet, the hesitant press from before is nothing compared to how their mouth slide together this time, how they lick into each other, filthy and wet, desperate to show each other how much they are wanted. Keith blames it on years of pining that he’s stumbling into their kisses, that he has to catch his breath halfway through before pushing right back in, devouring Shiro’s lips like honey. 

“Is that a yes?” Shiro laughs between two kisses, but it’s not before Keith lets his mouth wander down Shiro’s neck that he gets an answer.

“Does this look like a no to you?” Keith underlines his words with mouthing against the soft spot just above Shiro’s collarbone and if Shiro has planned on answering, the answer gets lost in a deep moan.  
  
Shiro’s fingers curl around his shoulder, drawing him closer. The faint sound of his panting against Keith’s ear sends a shiver down his spine, motivating him to sink his teeth into the crook of Shiro’s neck. It would surely bruise by tomorrow.

Just as Keith decides the distance between them is too big, he feels Shiro’s hands wander lower, squeeze around his ribcage before settling on his hips, where they just _ pull _. And Keith is eager to follow.   
  
Stumbling into Shiro’s lap is easy, it’s a swift motion which some sappy part in Keith’s brain compares to finally coming home, fitting his body against him like he belongs there. He banishes the thought to some distant corner of his mind when he slings his arms around Shiro’s neck and draws their faces closer together, Shiro’s lips too inviting not to be kissed. 

“I’ve wanted to kiss you for so long,” Shiro breathes against his lips as he lets his hands sink into the fabric of Keith’s shirt, curling his fingers around Keith’s waist. A strangled gasp leaves Keith’s mouth when he notices how Shiro’s hands close right around his waist, his lithe frame so tiny compared to the mass of a man that Shiro is. Thinking about the sheer size of Shiro makes him moan out loud.  
  
He does not seem to be the only one affected by the thought, Keith notices, as he feels something stiff press against his thigh where he is sitting in Shiro’s lap. An experimental shift of his hips tells Keith that, yes, indeed, Shiro is already hard underneath him. He feels his cheeks flush at the thought, his hips not stopping their thrusts. On the contrary, as the sounds Shiro breathes against his lips grow louder, it only encourages his movements, the circles of his hips slow but certain, aiming just high enough to drive Shiro crazy without providing enough friction to be anything above mere teasing.   
  
He enjoys having the upper hand, enjoys how Shiro is a whimpering mess because of him, letting himself be teased. 

At least he thinks so. He’s lost in the roll of his hips when Shiro groans“Damn, Keith” against his ear, grabbing his waist and basically slams him down, making both of them howl out in pleasure.   
  


Keith sees stars. This is better than any wet dream he has ever had. 

He tells Shiro as much, his voice dripping with want.  


Keith has never sounded so dirty and desperate before, but apparently this is what Shiro does to him – and he won’t complain. Not when he enjoys it so much. 

He grinds down again, his thrust well-placed and planned. What he does not plan though, is Shiro trying grind up against him at the same time, catching them both off-guard. 

Shiro goes first, losing his balance and tipping backward, taking Keith with him in the process, landing on the ground with a dull sound.  
  
Their position looks awfully familiar, with Keith pinning Shiro to the ground and their lips barely touching, the only thing different this time the tale-telling hardness in their pants.

And Kosmo propped up next to them, grumbling and his head bent in a curious expression.  
  
“Kosmo, no,” Keith sighs. It’s embarrassing, being caught like that, but he had forgotten the presence of his dog up until now, the impact of their fall must have woken him up. 

“You want to take this inside?” From where he is pinned underneath him, Shiro looks at him as if he'd hung the moon when Keith shyly tucks a strand of hair behind his ears. It’s devastatingly beautiful, Keith thinks. 

“I’d like that very much.”

*  


What has seemed so easy in the light of their campfire feels so hard the second they stumble into the tent, the anticipation between them too much and not enough at the same time, and Keith notices his palms starting to sweat where their hands are still linked between them. Their tent is not high enough for them to stand upright, so Shiro is the first to kneel down on their mattresses, dragging Keith down with him, their shoes long gone, discarded and forgotten. 

The air feels so intimate, so completely different from the previous night it makes Keith shiver. The distance between them is nearly non-existent and the only light is the soft flicker of their dying fire shimmering through the walls of their tent, bathing them in subtle hues of orange. Shiro’s breathe fans against his skin, lingers there so long it leaves all of him tingling with anticipation and it is difficult to act casual when Shiro’s eyes are looking at him like they want to devour him. 

There really _ is _ nothing casual about this.

  
It’s Shiro who bends into his space, Shiro who presses their foreheads together, who places a soft kiss against the corner of his mouth while his thumb grazes slow circles against his hand.

“Hey.” Shiro’s voice between them is barely a whisper. It’s soothing, serene, just what Keith needs to keep his beating heart from bursting out of his chest. 

“Hey yourself,” Keith answers, trying to calm his pulse. He’s nervous, has every right to be, but he does not want Shiro to notice, does not want him to mistake his nervousness for insecurity.

“You okay?” Shiro asks anyway, his voice worried and filled with adoration, and Keith nods, returning the soft press against his right hand with a light squeeze where their fingers are intertwined over Shiro’s heart.   
  
“This feels like a dream.” His other hand is shaking where he presses it against Shiro’s jaw, his whole body trembling in realization of their proximity. It’s overwhelming what Shiro does to him with so much as a simple kiss. He is well aware Shiro could wreck him, tear him apart with his words, and the thought that he would willingly let him do so sends a shiver down his spine.

“If this is a dream, I never want to wake up again,” Shiro’s head bends to hum against where his hand cups his face before he places a gentle kiss against his palm and Keith’s knees nearly give in. 

He barely has time to recover when Shiro’s free hand wanders down his chest, leaving Keith’s skin burning where his fingers trace the line of his stomach before his fingers delve into the hemline of his shirt. Keith burns for the moment his fingers sneak underneath his shirt, thumbing over his bare skin.

“We don’t have to do anything you do not want.” Shiro lifts their linked hands and starts pressing the softest kisses to Keith’s knuckles, causing Keith to blush deeply. He is happy Shiro can’t see his glowing cheeks in the dark of their tent. His answer comes in the shake of his head before his eyes fixate on Shiro. 

“I want you,” Keith breathes. ”I want everything, Shiro.” 

Before he can so much as blink, he can feel Shiro’s mouth on his again, capturing him in a heated kiss that makes Keith’s eyes flutter shut and his toes curl against his sleeping bag. The emotions are overwhelming him. It’s so much, too much and he cannot decide what he wants to focus on, with Shiro’s tongue in his mouth and his fingers circling the skin underneath his navel while his other hand is caged between their chests, squeezing his fingers lightly. It’s heaven.

His free hand wanders from its position on Shiro’s jaw, his fingers grazing over Shiro’s earlobe before they continue on their pilgrimage, ending at Shiro’s neck where each finger delves into the short hairs they find there, getting a moan from Shiro as a reward. This angle also gives Keith the ability to draw Shiro closer, and he won’t complain, not when he loses himself in the intensity of their kisses. 

Shiro’s hand against his stomach gets braver, the circles of his thumb giving way for Shiro’s whole hand to cup his hip before he seems to remember he has a second hand to help him on his quest of mapping Keith’s body with his hands. His broad palms fit easily around Keith’s narrow waist and a gurgling noise leaves Keith’s mouth when he feels two thumbs grazing over his abdomen before they make their way further down. 

He is positive Shiro is going to completely wreck him in all the good ways. They haven’t even started to get naked and Keith can already feel himself getting hard in his pants where Shiro’s thigh is caged between his legs. This might be over much sooner than he would like, he hates to admit to himself.   
  
They come to the realization at the exact same time that they are both suffering from too much clothing, and Keith claws at Shiro’s shirt to come off while Shiro’s hands busy themselves with fumbling with the buttons on Keith’s pants, making Keith curse about his choice of wearing the pants with way too many buttons on them.

Shiro seems to dislike his wardrobe choice as well. “Three buttons?” he remarks with a desperate groan, his fingers still fighting with too tiny buttonholes and Keith only huffs in response, before he strips Shiro’s shirt over his head, letting it drop to somewhere on the floor.  
  
With a sharp intake of air, Keith can only stare. The sight of Shiro’s naked torso in the firelight makes his chest tighten. They really were doing this.  
  
“You’re gorgeous,” is all he can mutter before his mouth gravitates towards Shiro’s collarbone where he lets his tongue slide against the porcelain skin, motivated by the punctuated huffs coming from Shiro’s mouth.   
  
He could continue doing this for hours, but Shiro does not let him marvel at his skin for long, too impatient to rid him of his shirt in a swift motion, leaving him in nothing but his pants in front of Shiro, who spills out a soft “Look who’s talking,” that has Keith’s cheeks burning.

There is a power in seeing each other like this, raw and in love, desperate to just touch each other, to never let go.  
  
Shiro’s hands reach for his own pants where he fumbles with his fly a bit too long, a bit too nervous, and Keith can see where his fingers slide off the buttons two, three times before Shiro’s pants finally spring open. 

It only takes one clumsy motion for Keith to bend over, pressing their chests together in the flow, to make Shiro tumble backwards, his back landing on the mattress, his chest pinned down by Keith’s hands and his hip caged between Keith’s knees.

With Shiro’s muscular chest too inviting, Keith’s uses only his pointer finger to glide over the body beneath him, his eyes following his finger on its pilgrimage, tracing one line from his collarbone down to his abs teasingly slow, grazing Shiro’s pecs on his way and getting a sharp intake of breath as he slides over one of Shiro’s nipples. The realization that Shiro is that sensitive brings a smirk to his lips.

Keith looks up to search Shiro’s face for affirmation when his hands finally reach his pants, and all he finds is a gentle smile, pure adoration and his name a mere whisper from Shiro’s mouth before he lifts a hand, cupping Keith’s cheek in his palm, his words ringing in the silent air between them: “You’re beautiful”.  
  
It’s all too overwhelming, all too intimate, Shiro’s words leave him flustered and blushing, and he has to avert his eyes, has to focus on the task at hand, focus on freeing Shiro from his pants. When his fingers brush against the telling hardness between Shiro’s legs, he cannot keep his lips from curving into a coy smile.

Shiro calling him beautiful still feels so surreal, still like something he would tell him in a dream, and not something he would tell him like this, pinned beneath him, half-naked and half-hard under Keith’s hands.

Keith is sure he takes extra caution when he lets his hands wander to Shiro’s back, when he slips Shiro’s pants over the curve of his bottom and down his legs, but Shiro lifts his hips, eager to help him, pressing into the space between them, before his hands land on Keith’s waist. All too sudden, Keith finds himself on his back and his pants join Shiro’s on the ground, leaving both of them in only their underwear. 

Shiro hovers over him, beautiful, ethereal. 

And it takes all of his willpower not to combust the moment Shiro starts worshipping his body.  
  
In their years of living together, they have seen each other in various states of undress, but here, this, with their bodies bathed in the pale flickers of the flames, with Keith’s skin burning under Shiro’s touch, with Shiro’s mouth hot and wet against his neck, with his emotions spilling from his lips in the form of soft pants and Shiro’s name, _ this _ is something not even Keith’s wildest dreams could compare to. 

  
“I love you,” stumbles from his mouth before he can catch himself, before realization washes over him.

Shiro stops his movements immediately, frozen in place and staring down at Keith – and Keith panics for a second when he sees Shiro’s eyes wide open.   
  
Every inch of his body screams for Keith to move, to run away, for Shiro to _ fucking _ say something, anything, to reject him, to leave him just like that. Because that’s what everybody else always did. 

What he does not expect is for Shiro to bend into his space, the softest press where their foreheads touch, his eyes full of stars and the words from his lips spilling like silk.

“I love you, too.”  
  


The words hit him with a force that takes his breath away. 

It’s shattering, heartwarming, it feels like he’s breaking apart and put together again in a matter of seconds and all while Shiro looks at him like that, like he was worthy of his love, like loving him was the easiest thing on earth.

Keith wants to protest, wants to tell him, _ show _ him how wrong he is, but suddenly he feels Shiro’s palms on his cheeks and Shiro’s lips against his. And it’s so easy to get lost in Shiro’s love that he simply does it, closes his eyes and lets himself fall into the caress of Shiro’s tongue and hands in his hair. 

The way Shiro maps his body with feathery kisses makes him see stars. Shiro worships him with his lips, with this mouth, teeth, fingers, with the most amazing “love you”s, whispered against his skin and his name breathed into his hair, Shiro’s arms wrapped around Keith’s body, encompassing all of him with touches so fragile as if Keith could break any second.  
  
His touches set Keith on fire.

And he is so willing to burn.  


“Love you,” Shiro mumbles where his lips meet Keith’s chest, where his hands are roaming over his pecs, his shoulders, down his arms. Their hands gravitate together for the shortest second, squeezing against each other, before Shiro’s hand wanders to the waistband of Keith’s boxers. 

“Still okay?” he asks when the first fingers sink underneath the fabric. 

Keith has to try really hard not to groan too loudly. His boxer shorts are lost somewhere in the dark and so is Keith’s sanity when Shiro bends down and lets his tongue slide against his dick, making Keith’s toes curl into the camping mat. 

The moans spill from his lips like water from a spring when Shiro uses both his hands and his mouth to please him, driving Keith crazy when he swipes his tongue around the head of his dick before letting it slip into his mouth.

Keith is sure he can see actual stars, Shiro is so good at paying attention to every tremble of his body and repeating the moves that make him sing, make his world narrow down to just feeling. 

It’s hot, it’s wet, and the way Shiro hollows his cheeks with every bump of his head elicits sounds from Keith’s lips that he didn’t know he was able to produce before. 

Shiro’s fingers slip around his length, replacíng his mouth when he draws his head back the slightest bit, just enough so he can place small kisses to the head before letting his thumb slide over the slit where small drops of precum have gathered. Shiro makes sure Keith looks at him when he licks his precum from his fingers and Keith wants to groan at the filthy display of affection. 

Instead, Keith lets his hand sink into Shiro’s hair and guides him closer again, pulls his mouth back to where he wants it. It’s selfish, filthy, but Shiro’s moan and his lust-filled gaze from where he looks up around his dick tell him that Shiro does not mind, not all. Quite the opposite, Keith realizes, when Shiro’s content hum against the skin of his length draws his name from his lips. 

As embarrassing it is to admit, he knows he won’t last much longer, and he tells Shiro as much, with a soft press against his cheek and a pleading “Shiro, stop,” sounding from his mouth, and when Shiro pulls back, Keith might regret his decision, already missing the hot wetness around his cock. 

He draws Shiro into a deep kiss and tastes himself as he licks into Shiro’s mouth, and it’s a poor compensation, but as he aims his knee in between Shiro’s legs and gets a deep moan as a reward, he won’t complain. Not when this new position lets him wrap his fingers around Shiro’s underwear, freeing him from that last piece of clothing between them. 

Shiro _ is _ well-endowed, he had figured that much from their run-in at the shower. But seeing his dick like this, hard and flushed between his legs, makes Keith swallow and fills him with a longing to touch all of Shiro.

Shiro is beautiful.  


“Want me to return the favour?” Keith asks between two kisses, his right hand already delving into the soft skin on the inside of Shiro’s thigh.

“No, it’s okay, but…” Even in the diminishing light of the campfire he is sure Shiro turns a deeper shade of red as he scrambles back, a whine escaping Keith’s lips when he breaks their contact. As Shiro turns and starts rummaging in his bag, Keith furrows his brows. 

He won’t fully complain, not when it provides him with the nice sight of Shiro’s backside. It’s pretty inviting even, so he aims for Shiro’s ass, caressing one of the cheeks with a soft squeeze. “Hey, that’s mine,” Shiro exclaims in protest, glaring over his shoulder at Keith.  
  
“You sure? I think it reads ‘property of Keith’ just here!” Keith underlines his words, pointing his fingers to a random spot on Shiro’s bottom. Shiro just fans his hand away. Before Keith catches him again, Shiro turns around again, a familiar bottle in his hand and a blush around his nose. 

And Keith laughs out loud.

“Did you really bring lube?!” Keith throws an arm over his face. Shiro _ really _ had packed everything, hadn’t he?  
  
“I wanted to be prepared, just in case,” Shiro explains with a shy smile, before he opens his other palm to reveal some condoms. ”I even brought these.”  
  
Keith chuckles, grins even, but the thought of Shiro wanting this, _ planning _ this, warms his chest. They really have been dumb all along. “Pretty sure of yourself.”  
  
“Better safe than sorry,” Shiro grins against his lips and it’s so smug that Keith wants to kiss it from his lips. And as he realises that he actually can do so, Keith simply does it.

His hands draw Shiro’s face even closer, squeezing his cheeks, and he dives in to kiss Shiro senseless. “God, I love you,” he whispers in between two kisses and uses the strength in his upper body to flip them around, his legs trapping Shiro underneath him. 

Their dicks touch, slide against each other, and for the moment, this is enough. He could stay like this for days, months, years, Keith thinks, when he grinds his hips forward, the wet slide of Shiro’s length against his making both men moan into their kiss.   


“Love you, too,” Shiro laughs as soon they part for air and it is the sweetest sound Keith has ever heard. When they grind together the next time, he uses the slide to interlace their fingers and to bend down, his mouth inches from Shiro’s ear. 

“I want you inside of me,” he whispers, his voice raspy and pleading, before he sinks his teeth into Shiro’s earlobe. Shiro rewards him with another moan – before he feels himself being flipped over with an ease that makes his dick twitch in anticipation. 

“You sure?” Where Shiro’s force seems so certain, his eyes speak a completely different language. They flicker over Keith’s face, searching for any sign of discomfort or insecurity, his features only softening when Keith places his hand against Shiro’s jaw. “Yes. Very sure.”  
  
He settles back down on the camping mat, trying to make himself as comfortable as possible between their sleeping bags and Shiro’s mountain of pillows, looking up at Shiro with what he wants to be a seductive expression but he’s sure is more of an awkward and thirsty deer in the headlights stare. 

“Tell me if I should stop.” Shiro’s concern is charming, but so misplaced, Keith thinks, as he willingly bends under Shiro’s touches. He is ready, so ready to be taken apart by Shiro. He thought he had been ready years ago, had felt so the first time he had heard Shiro moan in pleasure in the room next to his. But now, with Shiro hovering over him, looking at him like that, like he would do anything and everything for him, like he would keep his promise of never letting him go, for the first time Keith feels _ ready _.

Emotionally prepared. Overwhelmed. 

At a loss of words, he can only nod in Shiro’s direction and sigh in relief when he hears the bottle pop open and the first finger nudge against his rim.

For a moment he is glad he’s not a virgin anymore, glad he knows what it is supposed to feel like – but feeling Shiro’s fingers inside of him is _ different, _so different from anything he has ever experienced. He’s cautious, moving tantalizingly slow, but precise, drawing the filthiest moans from Keith’s lips. His fingers are thick, making him feel so full already when there are only two of them stretching him, but he whines in pleasure, his body screaming for more, begging for Shiro to go faster. 

He rocks against Shiro in his search for more friction, in his search for relief, but Shiro’s other hand slides against his stomach, his thumb pressing against his belly button, holding him just like this. It’s a welcome torture, and the moans spill from his lips when Shiro’s fingers brush against _ that _ spot that make his toes curl, again and again. Keith’s hands blindly search for anything to hold on to when the next wave of pleasure hits him, but he does not find any help in the pillows or the sleeping bags, so he screams out and lets his hands wander to Shiro’s shoulders instead. 

He does not, for the record, intend to influence Shiro’s movements, but when Shiro decides to press a third finger against his hole as soon as Keith squeezes against his shoulders, he welcomes it happily.

The mattress shifts underneath him when Shiro sits up, bending over him to place a kiss on his lips, and it gets lost in another moan. Somehow, Shiro still manages to remain sweet and beautiful, gently wiping a strand of hair from Keith’s face, while Keith’s body feels like it’s melting under his touch anytime he brushes his finger against his prostate. Just as Keith feels like he cannot fight tipping over the edge any longer, Shiro pulls out, leaving him empty and aching. 

Keith never thought the sound of a condom wrapper being torn apart could sound so angelic to him, but, as he would admit afterward, all the blood in his groin does not make it easier to think. So he simply tries to focus on Shiro next to him, around him, touching him everywhere and setting him on fire. 

Shiro’s pure strength is arousing, especially when he only has to use one hand to lift his ass and pull him closer before he hoists Keith’s legs up and over his shoulders. Their eyes search each other, their faces exchanging one last reassuring nod before Shiro lets the head of his dick sink into him.

And the first slide sends the last of his thoughts flying as Shiro bottoms out in one swift motion.

His shoulders are pressed into the pillows and Keith is sure his back will kill him the next day but it’s worth it, so worth it, he realizes when Shiro shifts his hips and picks up the pace, sliding in even deeper than before.

It’s all too much to take in. 

The fire underneath his skin. 

Shiro touching him everywhere, hitting him deeper, faster, stronger than anyone had ever done. 

The noises between them, the sound of skin slapping against skin mixed with punched out moans and stuttered prayers gradually fusing into a crescendo. 

Shiro’s hand curled around him, riding him closer to his climax. 

It washes over him in waves.  
  


And as he tips over with a deep groan, his fingernails carve red marks where they are pressed into Shiro’s legs.

Keith orgasm is enough for Shiro to lose their rhythm, his grinding thrusts getting faster and even more desperate instead. Keith finds his legs slipping from Shiro’s shoulder as Shiro leans forwards and grabs his hips to pull him closer, fucks into him relentlessly, nearly bending Keith in half when he presses their mouths together, a harsh “Keith” whispered against his lips.  
  
Like this, he only lasts another two thrusts before his lips shape into a soundless ‘o’. And his body freezes. 

Hot breath brushes against Keith’s collarbone where he wraps his arms around Shiro’s chest, draws him in and lets his hands run over his shoulders in soothing circles, all while Shiro hums against his collarbone, as they bathe in each other to come down from their high.

“Hey,” Shiro whispers, blissed-out, lifting his face so their noses touch.  
  
“Hey,” Keith answers, content, happy, his nose gently rubbing against Shiro’s. 

The smile between them truly feels like _home_.  
  


*  
  
With their campfire gone out by the time they decide to disentangle their limbs, they try cleaning each other up as best as possible in the dark of their tent. Keith still feels awfully embarrassed about their late-night trip to the communal shower in nothing but towels. 

It takes way longer than usual, with their fingers interlaced and Shiro pulling Keith into a kiss about every ten meters. Keith blushes like a shy teenager on his first date when he feels Shiro’s hand roam over his chest and he has to stop him, because there’s no way they will make it to the showers like this. 

It feels like trespassing when they switch on the lights at the communal shower at three in the morning and leave their towels on the floor the second they enter the building. But when Shiro laughs and offers to soap his back, all Keith can think about are the soft fingers on his skin and Shiro’s warm smile and Keith feels even more in love. 

There’s a grin on his lips that won’t go away, even as Shiro drapes an arm over him once they are back in their sleeping bags, and when Shiro whispers soft “I love you”s into his ear, telling him how he will never let him go again, Keith has every reason to believe that, this time, Shiro will be true to his words.  
  
It’s to the sound of rain softly pattering against the tent that Keith wakes up hours later. It’s calming, he thinks, as he listens to the melodious drumming above his head, the soft hues of dawn bathing their tent in different shades of blue, telling Keith it’s way too early. He snuggles up against Shiro and falls asleep again, the sound of rain and Shiro’s soft snores in his ear. 

Sleep comes easy to him that night.

*

It has never felt so good to just sleep in and do nothing, Keith figures as he wakes up to Shiro’s arm wrapped around his waist and his lips on his neck, leaving the softest kisses.  


“Hey,” Shiro whispers against his neck, where Keith is sure he left a bruise the night before. 

“Hey yourself. Had a good night?” He does not even try to suppress the moan that leaves his lips when Shiro licks at that soft spot just below his ear. 

“The best.” And Keith is sure he can feel Shiro smiling against his neck.  
  
Shifting on to his side has the downside of preventing Shiro’s continued nuzzling at his skin, but their new position does allow him to look into Shiro’s eyes and it’s an acceptable compensation. “Last night really happened, huh?” 

“Do you regret it?” 

  
Keith’s answer does not come, not at first at least. His hand searches for Shiro’s instead, and he plays with Shiro’s fingers before intertwining them with his. He then draws their interlaced fingers up and places soft kisses to each of Shiro’s knuckles. “Never. Do you?” 

“Never. I just thought we might have rushed everything a bit and...” Keith’s chuckle interrupts Shiro’s rambling.

“Shiro, I’ve been dreaming of this for years!” Keith can see the realization hit Shiro’s face, his eyes blowing wide and a soft “Oh” on his lips. It’s charming how he can see Shiro’s ears turn pink, nearly the same shade as his cheeks as he looks away, as if embarrassed. “Oh, indeed.” 

Keith can feel his fear of rejection lingering in a dark corner of his mind, mildly shimmering. Years of hopeless pining have taught him not to get his hopes up too high. “Now please tell me you don’t intend for this to stay a one-time thing, otherwise, I might really start to regret it!”

“No, Keith. I meant what I said. I love you. I’ve loved you for so long.” Keith lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Hearing the words for the second time, in the light of day, is equally overwhelming to when they were first whispered against his temple the night before, still too good to believe, still so new.

He barely notices his lips curving into a smile. “Wow, we really _ have _ been dumb, haven’t we?”  
  
“I’m afraid you’re stuck with a dumb boyfriend,” Shiro snickers and lets their foreheads touch, making Keith wonder if the warmth in his chest comes from their intimate touch or the b-word on Shiro’s lips. So he decides to play along. 

“Could be worse.” The grin they share is liberating. Soft. And full of love. 

It’s everything, Keith decides, before he delves his fingers into Shiro’s hair and pulls him down into another kiss that gets reciprocate with quite a bit of enthusiasm.

  
Keith has to stop Shiro from peppering his neck with kisses, though, when he hears the familiar whining of his dog from outside their tent. Kosmo must have noticed they were awake, seizing on his chance for food. 

So Keith sighs, his hands sliding along broad shoulders, over his neck, up to his cheeks, where he uses enough fore to draw Shiro’s face up.  
  
“Shiro, I love you. But I have to feed Kosmo,” Keith tries to explain, knowing fully well how agitated his dog could get when he did not get his breakfast on time.

He only gets a disappointed groan from Shiro in return and sees him rolling his eyes, involuntarily withdrawing his hand from where it has been on its way to sneak under Keith’s boxer shorts.

Keith hates to leave Shiro’s embrace and their morning bliss. Waking up to Shiro clinging to him like this definitely _ is _ something different, he admits with a coy smile on his lips, as he searches for a shirt he can throw over his head just to fake the slightest bit of decency.   
  
As expected, Kosmo waits in front of their tent, tail wagging and howling at Keith as if to say ‘I’m very happy for you, but please hurry up, I’m starving here. Save the snuggling for later.’ Keith only shakes his head while preparing the dog food. 

With his food more important than his owner, he only eyes Keith suspiciously before diving into his bowl just as Shiro emerges from the tent with his hair disheveled and a smug grin on his face. “Time for breakfast,” he whispers into Keith’s ear – way too sultry not to be taken as the innuendo it is – throwing an arm around Keith’s waist before drawing him back inside.   
  
It will be some time before breakfast, Keith assumes, but he won’t complain, not when Shiro strips him out off his shirt, spreads him on their make-shift bed and dives in for what he seems to consider _ breakfast _. 

  
*  
  
  
The decision to head home after breakfast is not the easiest. But they _ do _ have a road trip ahead of them and the thought of a soft bed and pizza sounds devastatingly awesome to both of them. Keith also looks forward to two hours of holding hands and sharing loving glances over the gear shift, even though the AC is still not working and Shiro will still sing along to the radio as out of tune as possible.  
  
As they start packing the car, Keith lets his gaze wander over the lake one last time.  
  
“You know, I can finally see what you meant,” Keith nudges softly against Shiro’s arm where he’s holding up a box filled with matches and fairy lights. 

“Huh?”

Keith bends over to kiss the confusion from Shiro’s face. He’s not sure if he means the scenery or Shiro when he answers, “It’s breathtaking.”

And maybe he means both.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * Constructive criticism
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
> 
> I'll try my best to reply to comments and would love to hear what you think!
> 
> I'm a rambling mess on [Twitter](https://www.twitter.com/dropsofautumn) so follow me if you like ♡


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